It is 7:53pm. Murray is in his crib crying his head off and I'm sitting here listening, tears rolling down my face. I won't go in there until it's been five minutes. I want to more than anything, which is why I'm blogging (need to keep busy). He has been crying for exactly 3 minutes. When I put him down, he was fine, but Craig went in to fix his blanket and all hell broke loose (Craig just left for softball). Murray sees his daddy and the world pretty much stops turning. I did pick him up and cuddle him for a couple of minutes and calmed him down after Craig left, but then I put him back in his crib to sleep, once he had settled. Most nights we don't have trouble anymore, but this is a tough one. He's over tired from his cold, and he should already be sleeping. I feel like the absolute meanest mother in the entire world. It has now been five, and just like I thought, he's not crying anymore. We may have made it. The problem is, now I want to go in there, say how very sorry I am for being a very mean mommy, and hold him all night long, but that would confuse and upset the poor baby even more. I stuck to my guns, but this was a hard one. Who knew five minutes could feel like a lifetime?