He’s started his signature sleepy wiggle, a boneless dance that signals his impending slumber. Despite my best attempts to sway him into a cozy nap, he seems to have mastered the art of evasion. So, I concoct a plan—off to the store we go. I know that by the time we return to the car, he’ll be sound asleep.
Success! I carefully unbuckle his car seat, tiptoeing to the front door. Just as I begin to open it, our neighbor pulls up and rolls down his window.
I turn the car seat so he can see the dozing baby and gesture wildly, hoping to convey, “Shhh!”
But he bellows, “He’s out cold, eh?!”
And just like that, the baby stirs awake. “Oh look! He’s up!”
Do I want to chat for ten minutes? Absolutely not.
Once the neighbor finally drives away, I notice my son’s eyes are drooping again. Yessssss. I insert the keys into the door and inch it open slowly. CREEAAAK!
He stirs, but his eyes stay shut. Mental note: get some WD-40 for that door.
Oh no! I forgot to let the dogs out before leaving. Suddenly, two furry tornadoes rush into the living room, barking like maniacs. I try to calm them down, explaining that the baby needs peace and quiet, but their response is a resounding, “We don’t care!” howl.
My son’s eyes pop open, and I know I must act fast. I lift him out of the car seat for a cuddle while ushering the dogs outside.
His head finds my shoulder, and he starts to drift off again as I sway gently. But then, a loud knock on the door sends him jolting upright. I fling open the creaky door, only to find the UPS driver already retreating to his truck. My package didn’t require a signature, but he still managed to create chaos.
At this point, I realize a simple lullaby won’t cut it. I plop down on the couch and start breastfeeding. After about ten minutes, my little one falls back into a deep sleep. I prop my feet up, lean back, and close my eyes, thinking maybe I’ll squeeze in a nap too; I could really use it.
As I begin to relax, the dreaded sounds of the outside world invade my serene moment. The gardeners have arrived, and their loud equipment resembles a horror movie soundtrack. My son looks at me, smirking as if to say, “You really thought we were going back to sleep?” With a decisive thumbs down, he decides that his ten-minute nap has energized him like a hundred men. Daytime naps, for me, are just a distant dream now.
I suppress an internal sigh, brew myself an iced coffee, and remind myself that naps are overrated anyway. There’s always tomorrow to try again.
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In summary, parenting can be unpredictable, especially when it comes to naps. Despite our best intentions, sometimes the universe has other plans.