On an internet discussion board I frequent, someone was lamenting some difficulty of parenting a baby, I think with relation to sleep stuff.  And she said, "Is it just that babies are built for the Stone Age and we don't live that way any more?" 

Yes, in a way.  I think it probably goes further back than the Stone Age, but we can start there.  Imagine, a world where dark is dark, so when the sun goes down, you just go to sleep.  And you all sleep together in the cave or in the tree or whatever, and you wouldn't ever even think of having your baby sleep somewhere other than right on you, because some nocturnal carnivore would eat it.  And here we are in the modern world where mommy doesn't want to go to bed at 8:30 every night, she wants to get some time to spend with daddy or do schoolwork or mess around on the internet.  So what do we do?  We teach our children to bond with inanimate objects so that they will feel comfortable sleeping with said inanimates when mommy isn't around. On the internet board, this is called, somewhat euphemistically, "introducing a lovey."  I'm doing it, and I think it will help things at our house.  But it seems pathological.  I remember how much I LOVED my blanket and my bear when I was little.  LOVED.  It was as much love as anything I've ever felt for a person, and that seems somehow not quite right.  I think that I care about my wacky attachment parenting so much because I don't want Ramona's most meaningful relationships as a small person to be with things which can never love her back. 

Two unrelated sidebars: 

1) I read a thing in Oprah magazine (I was at a spa using a gift certificate) about how women have a more developed brain region responcible for sensitivity to the emotions of others because we're wired to meet the needs of nonverbal infants.  Makes sense.  But I don't know if it's because we come out with our brains wired that way, or because from the minute we come out, that's how we're taught to be. 

2)  I have a terrible burn on my ass due to the fact that Ramona grabbed on to and spilled a cup full of hot tea that was sitting behind us.  I dove out of the way, so that only my butt got it.  I don't think I ever burned by butt before.  Yes, I did read the section in the baby book that says keep hot cups of tea out of the reach of your five month old.  I just wasn't thinking.  Nice going, mommy.