The beauty of naps

Sunlight streaming through the window, as you’re stretched out on the couch. Blanket draped haphazardly around your knees, barely covering both feet, but the streaming sunlight and heater humming creates the perfect cozy warmth. There’s the dog chewing quirky on a bone on the floor, maybe piercing the silence with a sharp bark or two when the mailman drives by, but mostly it’s peaceful, quiet, afternoon lull. One forearm is draped over our eyes as we drift through dreams and stirrings.

Or there’s the blackout shade drawn tight to block the streaming sunlight. If it’s “five o clock somewhere” then it’s “bedtime somewhere” is a perfectly acceptable phrase for the overly tired. Maybe we’ll change into our jammies or sweats even if it’s only 2pm because we know we’ll wake for dinner, but maybe won’t have the strength to do much else besides nuke some leftovers. If the kiddo is drippy nosed, we’ll possibly snuggle in together for a three hour nap and wake in time to watch some cartoons and go back to bed for the night.

There’s something magical about naps that doesn’t happen in my all-night sleep. I’m rarely aware of the time, and float dreamily in and out of consciousness. The dog may bark, but I’m less inclined to yell about it, and the phone may ring and I may or may not answer. Even when I’m crunched for time, a nap feels delicious, where crunched for time in the evening makes me feel panicky and wasteful of the 6, 7, or 8 hours that my timer says are left before my alarm gets me up for the next day’s activities.

Potamus and I have been taking a lot of naps together lately. There was the barfing incident last week, and then my Friday off, where we hunkered down in the dark bedroom and slept like the dead. I haven’t woken up so refreshed in a long time. But the magic of naps is quickly used up, like the spare change you find in the couch. It’s Monday morning and no matter how many naps I took this weekend it didn’t make me less tired this morning as I drove to work. It’s difficult, the anxiety prodding me awake at all hours of the night. My bladder prodding me awake at all hours of the night. My son’s grabby little hands prodding me awake at all hours of the night. Nap-time restfulness never quite fills me up for long enough.

But those beautiful moments, when we’re sweaty and rosy cheeked after a long slumber. When we yawn and crawl out of bed to more giggles and Hotwheels cars racing down the hallway…those moments are the ones I try to hang on to. When I’m gasping for my morning cup of coffee and it’s not even 8:00 am, I try to remember the luxury I felt this weekend when I got to take the elusive mother-nap.

Word Vomit

-I was in a car accident on Tuesday. The first one that has ever been my fault, and wed are crossing our fingers that it isn’t totalled. Worst part (beyond the pain and wrecked car) was that it wasn’t due to anything but a brain fart. I wasn’t txting or even pumping (though I had finished pumping recently)…it was simply a moment of distraction. And a lack of sleep, I suppose.

-Potamus is 5 months old today. He has been Teething and has a bum rash which has left him (and us) crabby, with not very much sleep. My heart breaks every time he goes to nurse and cries and cries because of the pain. I finally have given in to liberal amounts of tylenol and gum numbing liquids and he finally comfort nursed and fell asleep today. Hallelujah. But mama needs some sleep.

-my sister-in-law is filing for separation from my brother and is refusing for him to see his daughter unless he is supervised. My heart breaks for him. She is only 1 month old and already her life is in tumult. I tell him to hang in there, that the first few months of parenthood are SO hard, and she may be suffering from post-partum depression/anxiety/ocd/or psychosis. 

-Potamus is doing this sweet things when he falls asleep. He likes his back to be patted, but he also likes to hold onto my thumb…and with his other hand, he reaches out, and grabs a fistfull of my hair, or strokes my face, or jams his fingers into my mouth (or, ooops, eyeball). It’s like he is memorizing me. And while it is startling, when he wakes up sort of suddenly, and reaches out to touch me on the arm, or face, as if to say to himself “are you still there mama? Oh yes, phew, you are.”

Sleeping arrangements

From the time we got pregnant I knew that we were going to co-sleep, and so I registered for an Arms Reach Co-Sleeper,  and explained to my friends and family the benefits of co-sleeping and that NO we were not registering to a crib, that baby Boof would sleep in our room indefinitely and then would transition to a toddler bed when he was ready.

I was prepared for co-sleeping. But what I wasn’t prepared for was bed sharing, where the baby sleeps IN bed with mom/dad rather than right next to the bed in the co-sleeper. But, when baby Boof was born, I could not put him down. For the first week he slept on my chest in a kangaroo way, all pouched down in my stretchy tank. And then he grew 2 inches and his legs flopped over my side, so he slept all snugged up to my bosom. And I loved it. But I recognize safety issues, and also wanted a little more sleeping room throughout the night. So, almost a month in, and baby Boof is now sleeping 3 inches from me in the co-sleeper, and honestly, he has made the switch without any fuss.  Mama, on the other hand, misses the sweet feeling of his breath on my neck and the little sigh he would give as he snuggled his head up under my chin. Or, like the other nightclub, when he was crying, and reached his little arm out of the swaddle, touched my neck and then fell asleep. It’s sweet moments like this that I will miss as he moves into the co-sleeper for good, and eventually his own bed.

The benefit, though, is getting to sleep on my stomach again, after a year!