I do not know where this exclamatory additive originated. You have all either heard it, used it, or both to provide an exasperated emphasis to some opinion or observation. For example, “For crying out loud, I suppose I am the only one in this house that knows how to replace the toilet paper roll!” Or “Who left the back door open again? Were you born in a barn, for crying out loud?”
This phrase took on new meaning this week as we let the last of our four children go through that excruciating rite of passage known as “crying it out.” Now, in my experience, you are either in the let-em-cry camp or you have dismissed it outright as cruel and unusual punishment. Whichever position you hold, it has worked very well for our family over the years. When we let our first child go through this routine at the age of ten months (nine years ago), it was just like Dr. Spock described. Crying the first night for thirty minutes, twenty-five minutes the next night, five minutes the next night, and then not a peep thereafter. What a blessing it was to have a full eight hours of sleep every night! When you are in the throes of sleep deprivation, you don’t notice how blurry and opaque your world can be until you awaken bright eyed, with clear skin, to the clarity a morning can provide.
Danielle will never remember the screaming and crying during those three nights. I will, of course, take every wail to my grave. I would either go and hide in my closet when the crying would start or go out for a run with my walkman turned up to maximum volume to drown out the cries that I carried with me on my three miles. My husband, Tom, always the logical, practical one, would console me “It’s the best thing for her. She’s not sick, she’s not in pain, she needs and we all need a good night rest.” He was right, of course, as he was when we let Travis, Sabrina, and now Caroline cry it out. Tom can listen to the kids fuss and cry and tune it all out as somehow I think most men can.
