October 13th, 2017

Carnap with Baby

Carnap with Baby

Was it years ago that I was bemoaning the fact that my toddlers no longer nap regularly? Oh wait, that was two weeks ago. Funny how quickly we go from “Uh oh my kids aren’t napping!” to “Sorry but you are not allowed to take a nap. Do not even think about it.”

Since they eschewed naps, Phoebe and Eliza have become much easier to put to bed at night—although they still inexplicably wake up before it is light out. For this reason, I am fully on board with the end of napping as we knew it.

Nevertheless, the girls are under the weather with colds, so Jon and I agreed that we should take them for a good long car nap the other day to make sure they got enough rest. While they won’t nap in their beds anymore, they conk out in the car like clockwork every time. 

This went well. They seemed to feel much better after the snooze cruise. But then bedtime came around. 

Guys, have you ever given two raccoons crystal meth and then trapped them in a small room? That was bedtime at my house.

I often have to give myself come-to-Buddha talking-to’s at bedtime, reminding myself that no matter how bananas they are being — jumping on the bed, kicking the wall, climbing the bookshelves, fighting over books, chucking books, fighting over my lap (“My lap!!!”), pinching each other, maniacally burying baby beneath found objects and freaking if you touch or move the stack of random objects smothering baby in the middle of the room — at some point, they’ll just collapse.

Phoebe is my delicate flower, so she tends to collapse first. At some point, she’ll voluntarily opt to lie down and curl up. She might need some light petting or the reassurance that I am physically by her bed for a few minutes, but compared to Eliza, she’s the easy kid.

Eliza is full-metal-nope when it comes to lying down and going to sleep. After all the books have been hurled, the tantrums thrown, the water chugged, the third diaper changed, the baby tucked into bed meticulously like Nefertiti in her tomb… only then will she even consider lying down (in the small space that baby is not taking up). That’s the point at which I sing all the songs. And make up all the stories. And finally resort to calling downstairs for a glass of wine… if there is anyone else around to fetch it.

The good thing about feral raccoons is that, like all God’s creatures, they do have to sleep eventually.



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