My 2-year-old, Max, insists on having me lie next to him for half of his naptime. Well, it’s not exactly a requirement, but that’s how it’s always been. If I don’t join him, his nap is cut short, and a cranky toddler is the last thing I need. So, when he stirs, I’m there. I scroll through social media, attempt to jot down a few thoughts (thank goodness for note-taking apps), and occasionally close my eyes for a moment.
After eight and a half years of parenting, I don’t dwell on my choices as much as I did when my eldest, Ethan, was a baby. My parenting style leans toward attachment parenting, but my approach has become more instinctual. I simply do what feels right, and honestly, I’m too exhausted to analyze it all.
Today, it occurred to me that many parents can’t—or wouldn’t—spend naptime lying beside their children. Some are working moms, while others have older kids to tend to during that time. Many children find comfort in toys or blankets, while some simply need less assistance than Max does. I totally understand that; every family finds their own rhythm.
Recently, Ethan had a Pajama Day at school, where he was meant to wear his favorite PJs and bring along a stuffed animal. He chuckled, “I guess I’d have to bring you, Mom!” He no longer sleeps in our bed, but I still lie with him each night until he drifts off, with either his dad or me by his side.
Max, on the other hand, still requires my presence. He needs me not just for naps but also throughout the night. I realize that my level of closeness—sharing a bed and interrupted sleep—isn’t for everyone. I sometimes forget how unconventional it may seem to others since this approach has become second nature to me.
Why do I do it? Partly because it’s easier for me to comfort my babies when they cry than to find different methods to soothe them. But there’s more to it: I’m holding on. Holding on to their childhoods by physically being with them. I know this won’t last forever; independence arrives in its own time, and childhood slips away faster than we realize. My 8-year-old barely wants to cuddle anymore; soon, he may not even want me nearby.
But Max still craves my closeness. He fits perfectly against me, and the faint scent of baby shampoo still lingers in his hair. I refuse to rush through this phase; the thought of it ending tugs at my heart.
So, even when I feel overwhelmed or wish for a moment of solitude, I go to him. I lie there in the dark, mostly waiting or zoning out on my phone, soaking in the moment. I’m pausing time, if only for a heartbeat. I’m holding on.
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In summary, navigating the world of parenting often comes with unique challenges and beautiful moments. Embracing the closeness with my children, particularly during their early years, is a way for me to cherish their childhoods while balancing the demands of everyday life.