Dear Boys,
Clearly you need some clarification about what "nap time" and "quiet time" mean. I know this because everything you are doing is the exact opposite of what you are supposed to be doing.
Let me elucidate.
"Nap time" means sleeping. It does not mean jumping, singing, banging blocks together, faux crying or walking out of the room every 5 minutes to tell me you love me. I love you, too, but I will feel that love much more heartily if you STAY IN YOUR ROOM. "Sleeping" means you lie down on your bed and you close your eyes and you stay there for an extended period of time. You do not sing, you do not play with your toys, you do not throw books all over the floor and "ice skate" on them. Sleeping requires stillness, so when you get up after 30 seconds and tell me you can't sleep, THAT is why you can't sleep. STOP. MOVING.
If you truly, actually, sincerely try to sleep (remember: that means NOT MOVING) and cannot fall asleep, then it is still quiet time. Does that mean you should jump on your bed and make siren sounds? No, it does not. Does it mean you should pretend to have to pee or poop (or both!) once every 15 minutes and inform me of your attempts? No, it does not. Does that mean you should come out of your room repeatedly and ask for new toys? NO. IT. DOES. NOT.
"Quiet time" means that you must be quiet. As in, not noisy. As in, a lack of sound. As in, SSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Stop yelling, stop singing loudly, stop practicing gymnastics on your bed. Just quietly read your books, or quietly play with the toys in your room. Twiddle your thumbs. I don't actually care. Just do it quietly. That is all I ask.
Quiet time is not the time to decide that you HAVE to have the giraffe you gave to your brother a year ago. I'm sorry you miss him. It's been a year. It's time to move on.
Quiet time is not the time to decide that, in spite of the mass quantities of milk and water you downed at lunchtime, you are parched. Because you are not. So quit it.
Quiet time is the time for quiet. Not necessarily because you need it- although, trust me, you do- but because without a brief moment of quiet in an otherwise "Mom, mommy, mom, MOOOOOM!" filled day, I will lose my mind. That's right, sweetie, this isn't about you.
Mommy needs this time to rebuild the energy it takes to feed and wipe and chase and feed and calm and wipe and entertain and wash and help two boys under five. You are tiny energy vampires, and without the time to recharge, I can't play trucks with you the way you like. If I don't have quiet time to eat my own lunch at 2pm, I don't eat and then I am cranky. If I don't have nap time to load the dishwasher and answer emails and attempt to breathe for 30 seconds, I have a hard time keeping my cool when you ignore my instructions for the seven bazillionth time.
Mommy needs nap time- or at least quiet time- so that I can be a better Mommy. It will help us all, my little squishies. So, please. Stay in your room. Stop coming out and asking asinine questions. Stop flying around your room like a broken toy airplane. Stop pretending to cry. Stop making those ear-splitting noises. Just. Stay. Quiet. Please. And thank you.
All my love,
xoxo Mama
* * *
p.s. If you missed my latest post over at Rattle and Pen, you can read it here.
Showing posts with label napping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label napping. Show all posts
Monday, December 2, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Armageddon Days Are Here Again
Oh god. My two year old is climbing out his crib. A lot. I can't keep him in it. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
This is the end. My only friend, the end.
There will be no more sleep in my house. Naps might be done. And they still need naps! I STILL NEED NAPS. It's going to be all exhaustion and crankiness and edge all the time up in this joint. Oh, god.
For the past couple of days, we have spent every naptime and every bedtime putting the Little One back in his bed every 2 minutes. Last night, we did this for 3 HOURS. And then I woke up at 3:45am to a tiny person standing next to my bed staring at me. It was terrifying. I put him back in his crib with strict "NO CLIMB!" instructions. At 7:15am, he was back. With trains.
Then, at naptime the next day I put the child back in his bed 25 times- TWENTY FIVE TIMES- before I finally gave up because around put-back 23 I'd switched him from his pack n'play to his crib and he fell and cried the 25th time he climbed out.
This sucks.
If I can convince the Little One to stay in his crib (and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to convince him to stay in his crib), there may be a couple months of hope remaining. Hopefully just long enough for us to move out of our current place and into one with separate rooms for each kid.
But if I can't (and it really seems like I can't... I've already counted his actual crib out what with the falling and all)... I'm going to have to switch him to a toddler bed. Which means I'll have to switch the Big One to a toddler bed. Because they share a room and the Big One will not have that kind of injustice. Which means that the magical cages... I mean CRIBS, I've managed to keep my boys in will be no longer.
(And to those of you saying, "OMG! You still have your 4 year old in a crib?!?!" I say, YES. YES, I DO. AND IT HAS BEEN AWESOME.)
What will happen when I switch a 4 year old and a 2 year old to toddler beds simultaneously?
I can only assume the Apocalypse will begin.
So... start gathering canned goods, people. This shit is going down soon, and it is not going to be pleasant.
This is the end. My only friend, the end.
There will be no more sleep in my house. Naps might be done. And they still need naps! I STILL NEED NAPS. It's going to be all exhaustion and crankiness and edge all the time up in this joint. Oh, god.
For the past couple of days, we have spent every naptime and every bedtime putting the Little One back in his bed every 2 minutes. Last night, we did this for 3 HOURS. And then I woke up at 3:45am to a tiny person standing next to my bed staring at me. It was terrifying. I put him back in his crib with strict "NO CLIMB!" instructions. At 7:15am, he was back. With trains.
Then, at naptime the next day I put the child back in his bed 25 times- TWENTY FIVE TIMES- before I finally gave up because around put-back 23 I'd switched him from his pack n'play to his crib and he fell and cried the 25th time he climbed out.
This sucks.
If I can convince the Little One to stay in his crib (and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to convince him to stay in his crib), there may be a couple months of hope remaining. Hopefully just long enough for us to move out of our current place and into one with separate rooms for each kid.
But if I can't (and it really seems like I can't... I've already counted his actual crib out what with the falling and all)... I'm going to have to switch him to a toddler bed. Which means I'll have to switch the Big One to a toddler bed. Because they share a room and the Big One will not have that kind of injustice. Which means that the magical cages... I mean CRIBS, I've managed to keep my boys in will be no longer.
(And to those of you saying, "OMG! You still have your 4 year old in a crib?!?!" I say, YES. YES, I DO. AND IT HAS BEEN AWESOME.)
What will happen when I switch a 4 year old and a 2 year old to toddler beds simultaneously?
I can only assume the Apocalypse will begin.
So... start gathering canned goods, people. This shit is going down soon, and it is not going to be pleasant.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Nap Avoidance
The Big One takes on nap avoidance like a job. A career. A mission. A mission to drive me insane. AND IT IS WORKING.
The Big One has always been an expert nap avoider. As a little guy, he would attempt to cute his way past The Window, cooing and gurgling like a tiny cherub. As he got older, he would ask for one more book, one more song or one more snuggle. Still cute. As he entered toddlerhood, he became trickier, begging for a drink of water, claiming he had to go potty, assuring me he JUST. WASN'T. TIRED. But usually, with enough patience on my part, he would fall asleep and take the nap we both desperately needed.
But now. Oh, now. Now, he's spiteful. Now he's calculated, conniving, and... a genius, really. Because now, he does everything he can think of to wake the Little One up. His sweet little brother who is happily snoozing away in the closet just a few feet from him. And it makes me completely, thoroughly, murderously angry.
(Have I mentioned the Little One naps and sometimes sleeps part of the night in our master closet? He does. I'm sure that won't cause any issues down the road. Bygones.)
The Big One has developed this terrible, horrible, AWFUL sound- a godawful hoot- that carries from here to Shanghai (hello friends in China!! You've heard it, haven't you). It is possibly the most irritating sound known to human kind and he can keep it up for hours. HOURS, oh my hell on earth. And he has figured out that, apart from making me insane, the sound will likely wake his peacefully sleeping brother... thereby ending nap-time.
You guys, he is brilliant. Or evil. An evil genius, perhaps? Shit. My kid is an evil genius. What do I do about that, exactly? Channel it? Redirect it? Shave his head, get him some dark glasses, and prepare to be proud of his intelligence... however it rears it's (potentially ugly) head?
Ugh. I miss nap. I NEED nap. He needs nap. Sonofabitch.
The Big One has always been an expert nap avoider. As a little guy, he would attempt to cute his way past The Window, cooing and gurgling like a tiny cherub. As he got older, he would ask for one more book, one more song or one more snuggle. Still cute. As he entered toddlerhood, he became trickier, begging for a drink of water, claiming he had to go potty, assuring me he JUST. WASN'T. TIRED. But usually, with enough patience on my part, he would fall asleep and take the nap we both desperately needed.
But now. Oh, now. Now, he's spiteful. Now he's calculated, conniving, and... a genius, really. Because now, he does everything he can think of to wake the Little One up. His sweet little brother who is happily snoozing away in the closet just a few feet from him. And it makes me completely, thoroughly, murderously angry.
(Have I mentioned the Little One naps and sometimes sleeps part of the night in our master closet? He does. I'm sure that won't cause any issues down the road. Bygones.)
The Big One has developed this terrible, horrible, AWFUL sound- a godawful hoot- that carries from here to Shanghai (hello friends in China!! You've heard it, haven't you). It is possibly the most irritating sound known to human kind and he can keep it up for hours. HOURS, oh my hell on earth. And he has figured out that, apart from making me insane, the sound will likely wake his peacefully sleeping brother... thereby ending nap-time.
You guys, he is brilliant. Or evil. An evil genius, perhaps? Shit. My kid is an evil genius. What do I do about that, exactly? Channel it? Redirect it? Shave his head, get him some dark glasses, and prepare to be proud of his intelligence... however it rears it's (potentially ugly) head?
Ugh. I miss nap. I NEED nap. He needs nap. Sonofabitch.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Parents Are Trained Ninjas
Never before have you seen such stealth, such skills, such quiet-ensuring acrobatics as those of a parent with sleeping children.
DO NOT MESS WITH THE NAPS, YO.
Even children who sleep peacefully through every night, through alarms and loud movies, through dropped glasses and neighbor's parties- even the most sound of sleepers- will wake up at the slightest blip of noise when it is nap time. Drop a bobby pin, baby's up. Ankle pops when you take a step, toddler's awake. Sink drips, and nap time is over.
It is for this reason that parents develop super-skills in order to facilitate uninterrupted sleep. We know every creaky stair, every idiosyncrasy of each squeaky door handle, each popping floor board. We know how avoid every possible noise in the household for a full 3 hours in order to protect nap. I have seen parents backflip, snatch objects from midair, and slither through their houses like Hattori Hanzo. SKILLS, I tell you.
For some reason, however, it is during these precious, precious hours that all things noisy happen. The big kid is finally down for nap, except- OOPS!- it's the recycling truck, and it's glass pick-up day! The baby finally settles down, and then- uh oh- the UPS man rings the doorbell. Both children miraculously fall asleep (!!) at the same time (!!!), and then things on your counters and shelves start spontaneously committing suicide, jumping to their deaths onto the tile mere feet away from both sleeping children.
Gah.
If only the ninja skills were transferrable. And the garbage trucks would read the dirty looks you give them when they show up at 1:30pm.
DO NOT MESS WITH THE NAPS, YO.
Even children who sleep peacefully through every night, through alarms and loud movies, through dropped glasses and neighbor's parties- even the most sound of sleepers- will wake up at the slightest blip of noise when it is nap time. Drop a bobby pin, baby's up. Ankle pops when you take a step, toddler's awake. Sink drips, and nap time is over.
It is for this reason that parents develop super-skills in order to facilitate uninterrupted sleep. We know every creaky stair, every idiosyncrasy of each squeaky door handle, each popping floor board. We know how avoid every possible noise in the household for a full 3 hours in order to protect nap. I have seen parents backflip, snatch objects from midair, and slither through their houses like Hattori Hanzo. SKILLS, I tell you.
For some reason, however, it is during these precious, precious hours that all things noisy happen. The big kid is finally down for nap, except- OOPS!- it's the recycling truck, and it's glass pick-up day! The baby finally settles down, and then- uh oh- the UPS man rings the doorbell. Both children miraculously fall asleep (!!) at the same time (!!!), and then things on your counters and shelves start spontaneously committing suicide, jumping to their deaths onto the tile mere feet away from both sleeping children.
Gah.
If only the ninja skills were transferrable. And the garbage trucks would read the dirty looks you give them when they show up at 1:30pm.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Sharing a Room: Part Two
Which is worse: No sleep, or lots and lots of crying?
HA!!! That's a trick question!! The two can't be separated. They are tied together in a hideous tango of pain. If the kids don't sleep, there is lots and lots of crying. If I try to make them sleep, there is lots and lots of crying. LOTS AND LOTS OF CRYING. No matter what. Sometimes, it's me crying and wishing I was sleeping.
(Dear god, make them sleep!)
I'm trying to hold on dearly to the promise that "they" made me. "They" say that the kids will adjust. "They" say that the kids will learn to sleep together without waking each other up. "They" say the novelty of sharing a room will wear off. "They" say that this will work.
Will "they" please come over and make my children go to sleep? Because I can't seem to do it for the life of me. I've put them to bed separately. I've put them to bed early. I've run them ragged with exciting playdates and put them to bed late and exhausted. I've begged. I've pleaded. I've sticker charted. I've bribed. I've guilted. I've stared. I've gone in every 30 seconds and laid them both back down and told them in no uncertain terms that it is TIME TO SLEEP.
But there is no sleeping.
If a napless day was the only problem, I could deal. I could handle losing that precious, precious hour and a half in the middle of the day when I can answer my emails and eat a warm meal and watch trashy TV and pee in peace. But naplessness leads to other problems. It is the gateway drug to naughty and cranky. A day without naps means a day filled with time outs, temper tantrums, and crying. So. Much. Crying.
This embargo on sleep is causing me to lose my ever-loving mind. I am stress eating Reese's peanut butter cups. I am contemplating drinking starting at 10:30 a.m. I am wondering if I will ever get to experience a day when my toddler doesn't yell in my face and I don't want to hide in the closet and my infant isn't hysterical because all of us are SO exhausted.
"They" are on my shit list. I think "they" must be the same ones that said parenthood is easy. The ones who make people think that being a full time parent is all baking and zoo trips and lattes and spinning circles in the park while the children happily skip to bed singing, "I love my Mommy!!"
Those days do exist, thank god, but they seem to be few and far between these days. So until my days look like a scene out of Sesame Street, "they" better get their asses over here and put my kids to sleep. And bring me a latte.
HA!!! That's a trick question!! The two can't be separated. They are tied together in a hideous tango of pain. If the kids don't sleep, there is lots and lots of crying. If I try to make them sleep, there is lots and lots of crying. LOTS AND LOTS OF CRYING. No matter what. Sometimes, it's me crying and wishing I was sleeping.
(Dear god, make them sleep!)
I'm trying to hold on dearly to the promise that "they" made me. "They" say that the kids will adjust. "They" say that the kids will learn to sleep together without waking each other up. "They" say the novelty of sharing a room will wear off. "They" say that this will work.
Will "they" please come over and make my children go to sleep? Because I can't seem to do it for the life of me. I've put them to bed separately. I've put them to bed early. I've run them ragged with exciting playdates and put them to bed late and exhausted. I've begged. I've pleaded. I've sticker charted. I've bribed. I've guilted. I've stared. I've gone in every 30 seconds and laid them both back down and told them in no uncertain terms that it is TIME TO SLEEP.
But there is no sleeping.
If a napless day was the only problem, I could deal. I could handle losing that precious, precious hour and a half in the middle of the day when I can answer my emails and eat a warm meal and watch trashy TV and pee in peace. But naplessness leads to other problems. It is the gateway drug to naughty and cranky. A day without naps means a day filled with time outs, temper tantrums, and crying. So. Much. Crying.
This embargo on sleep is causing me to lose my ever-loving mind. I am stress eating Reese's peanut butter cups. I am contemplating drinking starting at 10:30 a.m. I am wondering if I will ever get to experience a day when my toddler doesn't yell in my face and I don't want to hide in the closet and my infant isn't hysterical because all of us are SO exhausted.
"They" are on my shit list. I think "they" must be the same ones that said parenthood is easy. The ones who make people think that being a full time parent is all baking and zoo trips and lattes and spinning circles in the park while the children happily skip to bed singing, "I love my Mommy!!"
Those days do exist, thank god, but they seem to be few and far between these days. So until my days look like a scene out of Sesame Street, "they" better get their asses over here and put my kids to sleep. And bring me a latte.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Leaving On a Jet Plane
Oh. Dear. God. In one hour, I am leaving on my first plane trip since having two kids. I know this is not a big deal. I know lots of people do this all the time. I know I need to calm the hell down. It's a straight-through flight and my husband will be with me. Nonetheless, this trip terrifies me to the depths of my very soul.
Perhaps I'm frightened because the last time we were on a plane, my oldest son was 15 months and spent the majority of the flight hopping up and down on my husband's and my toes and hollering because we wouldn't let him run free. This behavior was wildly unusual for him then. Not so much now. Perhaps I'm frightened because now he's two and he regularly hollers and hops up and down when he doesn't get his way. Perhaps I'm frightened because our plane leaves at bedtime and we have to attempt to feed the toddler and the infant, then get them to sleep, only to wake them up when our flight lands at midnight. Perhaps I'm frightened because my toddler- despite his toddlerness- is relatively easygoing. My infant is not. I fear him on this flight. Perhaps I'm frightened because we will be driving a minimum of two hours every day of this trip. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know neither child will get to nap or eat on their regular schedule. We will be at the mercy of schedules and visits and people who don't remember what it's like to have two small children. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know that all of this is a recipe for HELL.
Yup. That's it.
I'll keep my fingers crossed and remember that if lots of people do this all the time, it can't be that bad. Though I must say, I'm not optimistic. Luckily, I'll be with my in-laws, so I can totally be myself and express any frustration I might have. Oh... wait...
Perhaps I'm frightened because the last time we were on a plane, my oldest son was 15 months and spent the majority of the flight hopping up and down on my husband's and my toes and hollering because we wouldn't let him run free. This behavior was wildly unusual for him then. Not so much now. Perhaps I'm frightened because now he's two and he regularly hollers and hops up and down when he doesn't get his way. Perhaps I'm frightened because our plane leaves at bedtime and we have to attempt to feed the toddler and the infant, then get them to sleep, only to wake them up when our flight lands at midnight. Perhaps I'm frightened because my toddler- despite his toddlerness- is relatively easygoing. My infant is not. I fear him on this flight. Perhaps I'm frightened because we will be driving a minimum of two hours every day of this trip. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know neither child will get to nap or eat on their regular schedule. We will be at the mercy of schedules and visits and people who don't remember what it's like to have two small children. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know that all of this is a recipe for HELL.
Yup. That's it.
I'll keep my fingers crossed and remember that if lots of people do this all the time, it can't be that bad. Though I must say, I'm not optimistic. Luckily, I'll be with my in-laws, so I can totally be myself and express any frustration I might have. Oh... wait...
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