My son is almost 6 months old and I'm just now realizing there is going to be a time soon when I will have actual free time. Not those precious snippets stolen to empty my bladder, when I put him in some crazy jumping apparatus or on a blanket on the floor, real uninterrupted me time. Heck, it may even be something crazy like two full hours of quiet. Who knows, the naps the limit.
The mornings have become a sneak peek into what I can expect soon I hope. Hank wakes up almost exactly 10 hours after the minute his head touched his crib. That is usually 6am. Lately he's been pretty on target but some days are special. Some days he's a few minutes, maybe 30, off. On those mornings, like this morning, my eyes fly open like cheap rolly blinds, and I spring out of bed. First, I check to make sure he's alive, then I head to the laundry room where I fold the laundry that is on top of the dryer, usually one load plus what's in the dryer. Then I start another load and go the the bathroom...in peace. Next, I quietly put away the tidy piles of scented laundry and wait for the tell-tale rustle of my son in his crib. This small window of productivity before the first call to duty is like raking the sand of a zen garden. Granted, it usually only lasts 10 or 15 minutes but those moments are bliss.
During the day, it's a bit different. The nap thing isn't going as well as they map it out for you in the books. In fact, it's going terribly. Today for instance, I put him down, asleep, and left his room for first nap. I proceeded to get my hands all gooey and sticky making cake pops. Not 15 minutes into it I heard him rustling around over the monitor. I crept up the stairs to his room where I saw his little head bobbling around above the bumper. I snuck closer and, BANG, eye contact. That did it. He went from quiet little angel to screaming banshee baby. I then picked him up, changed him, soothed him back to a manageable state and placed him gently back in his bed. While slinking stealthily down the stairs I heard him start fussing. So, I sat down and waited. 3 minutes of fussing and I went back up to his room. There was his little head bobbing around again. I got on the floor and crawled closer. "Eh, meh, heh, neh, neh, neh..." His complaining was growing garbled. Yes, more garbled than baby talk. I peered over the edge of the crib bumper and there he was, eyes fluttering, struggling with all his might to keep them from slamming shut.
I laid down on his floor, listening to his valiant effort to win the nap war. The fan running, the faint looping of Death Cab...I swear, it was seconds before my own eye lids were getting heavy. Seriously, this little person has a stronger will than me?! As I laid there, I heard him give in, sigh and place his head gently on the soft fleece that protects him from the 50 thread count crib sheet. I slowly crawled out to the hall, stood up and let out a sigh of my own.
I'd like to say it was an easy transition back to making those cake pops but by the time I made it back to the kitchen my dipping chocolate was hard as a rock and my cake balls were warm. Back in the fridge with the balls and back up the stairs with me. That little poop was only out 5 minutes before he let out the loudest cry I'd heard all day. As I entered the room he popped his little head up and stared me down with alligator tears streaming from both eyes. Now this child has my number. He can produce these colossal tears in less time than it takes me to open his door. So, what could I do? I rescued him. He had had all of maybe 20 minutes sleep.
For nap number two I was less diligent. He wouldn't sleep in my arms, the crib or the floor. I let him have quiet play time with his floor toys and blanky and then we went for a walk outside. His little eyelids fluttered the whole time but never relinquished their steadfast open position.
Now, here we are at third nap. I know he's up there awake. I have only half of my cake pops done and the same laundry is still in the washer and dryer that I put there this morning. I'm exhausted and I know he's got to be delirious. When I finish this I will once again sneak op the stairs and belly crawl to his crib to see if he made it to dreamland. He'll more than likely be waiting for me with those lazy little peepers just barely cracked to catch my peeking.
By the time Scott gets home, all I want is to lock myself in the bathroom until bed time. But what fun would that be. I either help Scott get something ready for the grill or start figuring out what I'm going to feed us. This makes no sense to my husband who assumes I've had all day to plan dinner and possibly get it started. By the time we eat, it's time to put Hank to bed for the night. I leave the table and kitchen a mess and head upstairs for the last showdown. He gets a nice warm bath and soft jammies. He starts his flirting and cooing while I put him in his night time duds. I believe this is to soften me up and to apologize for frazzling me during alleged nap times throughout the day. The bedtime ritual is the same, each night it is a smooth transfer. After jammies are on he gets a night-night bottle while I rock him and place his favorite blankie over his eyes. By the end of the bottle he's out and I hold him a little longer just to make sure. Then I regretfully place him in his crib. I stand there, sad that the day is already over and then I leave his room.
When I come back downstairs I'm a little cranky. The lights are too bright, the TV is annoying, the kitchen is usually still a mess and I realize that he's sleeping and I finally have my own time. Only I don't get to use it as mine, it belongs to the house and the husband. Once the kitchen mess is cleaned up and the odds and ends of the day are picked up it's pretty much time for bed. Now, I can exercise my option to forgo the cleaning up of dinner and the days kitchen stuffs and curl up on the couch to crochet a few rows on whatever it is that I'm trying desperately to make but that usually backfires. The next morning is the same fight and the mess is usually still there but added to the next nights mess.
Soon, soon, I will have my own moments. There will be a real nap and during that nap who knows what I could accomplish. I might crochet a rug, bake some cookies, write a chapter of a book...The nap is the limit.
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