The End of the Nap
It's official: my 20-month-old angel has stopped napping.
Having gone through the process of nap cessation once before, I fully expected to have another six months to prepare for it. And by prepare, I mean arrange for her to be with someone else during the time she'd normally be napping. Perhaps I could get a job digging ditches or something otherwise more relaxing than entertaining a toddler when she shouldn't be awake.
Anyone with small children knows exactly what I'm talking about when I say naptime is sacred. When God made Sunday the day of rest, it was an afterthought to making naptime the daily moment of cherished tranquility. Without it, humankind would surely exhaust itself to death, and all his work would be for naught.
Over the past five months or so Gigi maybe took one day off a week from napping. Robin always knew when that was by my subtle screams and threats to leave the family. It was not pretty. I could easily have become addicted to some delicious mood-altering drug, had I a therapist. Lucky for me, there were six other days in the week to recover.
I know that sometimes when babies and toddlers learn a new trick, their sleep habits are disrupted. (For instance when Harrison learned to fall out of his crib, it would wake him up completely.) Gigi has been learning at least two new words every day since she stopped napping. However, since there are over 171,476 words in the Oxford English Dictionary, at what point will she be satisfied to start napping again?
You may be wondering how I could possibly be writing coherent sentences seeing how traumatized I was by merely one napless day per week. Well, coinciding with staying awake all day, she has agreed to spend some of that time watching TV. (If you're one of those parents who pooh-poohs children under two watching TV, read no further.) All I can say is whoever invented Elmo is a fucking genius. I remain sane, Gigi gets some downtime, Robin keeps the mother of his children from running away.
I think something a parent never accepts is how unpredictable your child can be. You really want them to be predictable, and you wish upon every star for it, but it rarely happens. The only thing certain is that tomorrow they'll try something new. And the only thing worth wishing is that they'll survive doing it. I at least hope her crush on Elmo lasts longer than the time it takes Netflix to deliver the next distraction.
Having gone through the process of nap cessation once before, I fully expected to have another six months to prepare for it. And by prepare, I mean arrange for her to be with someone else during the time she'd normally be napping. Perhaps I could get a job digging ditches or something otherwise more relaxing than entertaining a toddler when she shouldn't be awake.
Anyone with small children knows exactly what I'm talking about when I say naptime is sacred. When God made Sunday the day of rest, it was an afterthought to making naptime the daily moment of cherished tranquility. Without it, humankind would surely exhaust itself to death, and all his work would be for naught.
Over the past five months or so Gigi maybe took one day off a week from napping. Robin always knew when that was by my subtle screams and threats to leave the family. It was not pretty. I could easily have become addicted to some delicious mood-altering drug, had I a therapist. Lucky for me, there were six other days in the week to recover.
I know that sometimes when babies and toddlers learn a new trick, their sleep habits are disrupted. (For instance when Harrison learned to fall out of his crib, it would wake him up completely.) Gigi has been learning at least two new words every day since she stopped napping. However, since there are over 171,476 words in the Oxford English Dictionary, at what point will she be satisfied to start napping again?
You may be wondering how I could possibly be writing coherent sentences seeing how traumatized I was by merely one napless day per week. Well, coinciding with staying awake all day, she has agreed to spend some of that time watching TV. (If you're one of those parents who pooh-poohs children under two watching TV, read no further.) All I can say is whoever invented Elmo is a fucking genius. I remain sane, Gigi gets some downtime, Robin keeps the mother of his children from running away.
I think something a parent never accepts is how unpredictable your child can be. You really want them to be predictable, and you wish upon every star for it, but it rarely happens. The only thing certain is that tomorrow they'll try something new. And the only thing worth wishing is that they'll survive doing it. I at least hope her crush on Elmo lasts longer than the time it takes Netflix to deliver the next distraction.
posted by Anne at 1:48 PM
1 Comments:
Well at least one thing I can say is that being unpredictable never stops. You think you know how you're going to steer your kids, but just like you prolly didn't end up becoming what your parents had exactly envisioned, the same will go for your kids.
Just keep them off the pole.
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