I’m really, really scared writing this will jinx it, but Bubby has slept from 12:30 a.m. to 5 a.m. for three nights in a row.
All you BabyWise people out there, don’t rub my nose in the fact your three month old slept through the night… in our household we’ve had kiddos that wake up every couple of hours every night for a wee snack until they’re right around a year. That’s why I’m so amazed about the last three days! I dare to hope the super-flattering sandpaper texture of my skin I noticed in the Easter picture might be diminished thanks to restful sleep, less caffeine, and Botox.
Wait. I didn’t mean that last one. Because the idea of using needles to inject poison into my body doesn’t really appeal to me. (Although the ability to go all Reba McEntire-young overnight is appealing.)
Sleep is one of those things you take for granted until it’s gone. Between having to wake up to use the restroom during the night while pregnant and the baby, I haven’t had a complete, full night’s sleep for 15 months. When you add in the time spent waking up for other pregnancies and babies and the amount of energy exerted chasing four little ones around all day you’ll take your healthy living, wholesome attitude away and just get me a pot of coffee.
Yes, I said “pot,” not “cup.” I meant it. And yes, I have reached the point where I can drink 32 ounces of caffeinated beverage and immediately doze off if I sit still for longer than 4 minutes. This little trick has put quite the damper on my watching of Downton Abbey.
It never ceases to amaze me that the major, daily argument in our home revolves around rest time. Every day from 1 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. we settle down for naps or quiet time. But every single dad-blamed day I fight with my children about this subject.
“Nap time is my worst enemy!” I hear.
Have they not seen? Have they not heard? Entire cultures revolve around a plentiful sleep schedule. Siesta, anyone?!
One day they will realize the importance of sleep. It’s like a time release epiphany waiting to happen. There will be that shining, golden moment (probably when I’m 52 and 1/2 years old) when my children will call me and say, “Mom, I was wrong when I fought you over naps. I miss naps! And peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!”
And I will smugly say, “I told you so.” And life will feel full.
May your naps be deep and wide, may you drink deeply of the sweet nectar of sleep. Hasta la vista, baby.