things you do that make you take a hard look at yourself
What would YOU do to keep your baby awake until you get home to put him down for his nap?
It seems counter-intuitive. Let the child sleep, right? If he's sleepy now he'll be sleepy when he gets home, too, right?
Ssssh, little bunny. Let me give you some truth.
Babies get sleepy at the following times:
1. When you pull into the driveway.
2. When you pull into a parking spot at the grocery store.
3. When you're 4 blocks from home on foot.
4. When you are leaving for brunch.
Babies wake up like a freshly-hit crack ho at the following times:
1. When you walk in the front door of your house.
2. When it's bedtime.
3. When it's naptime.
4. When you arrive at brunch.
There's nothing worse on this earth than the under-10-minute powernap. Chicken falls asleep, seriously, as soon as I can see my house. By the time I'm in the front door he's been asleep for 4 minutes and thinks that's pretty much a wrap on the whole napping gig for the day.
"Mom, I know I usually do, like 90 minutes in the afternoon. But today, I think 4's good. Yeah, so that's like... sorry, I'm still wrapping my head around this whole "percentage" thing... 4% of my regular napping. That. Is. Clutch! Let's play with BUBBLES!"
... fast-forward 18 minutes...
THESE BUBBLES ARE FREAKING ME OUT!!!
WHY DON'T THEY EVER LAND?
IT'S SO BRIGHT IN HERE!
PICK ME UP!
NOT LIKE THAT!
PUT ME DOWN!
WHY AM I DOWN?
WHY AM I UP? I HATE UP!
TURN OFF THE LIGHTS!
OH MY GOD THE LIGHTS WENT OFF!
WHY ARE WE GOING IN THE NURSERY?
WHY IS THE WORLD SO CRUEL AND COLD?
WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BINKY?
NOT THAT ONE!
... fast-forward 45 minutes...
NAPS ARE BULLSHIT!
MY CRIB SUCKS!
MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!
LOOK AT ME!
STOP LOOKING AT ME!
LOOK AT ME!
IF YOU'RE LOOKING AT ME WHY AREN'T YOU HOLDING ME?
... fast-forward another 45 minutes...
I'M NOT TIRED!
I'M NOT TIRED!
I'M NOT TI--zzzzzzzzzzzz...
This, quite obviously, sucks. It is the major contributing factor to the empty bottle of gin in the spice cabinet. I keep it there so it's both handy and aromatic. (Just kidding. Who wants gin that smells like nutmeg? I'll tell you who, GOD, that's who. Nutmeg gin sounds freaking delightful and festive. I'm surprised Starbucks isn't already on top of that.)
So the other alternative is engaging in bizarre, public antics to keep Chicken awake until we can get into the nursery.
I have, in fact, myself, done the following to keep my child awake within a half-mile of my house:
1. In the carrier, loudly shaken and crumpled a paper bag next to his head.
2. In the car, reached back and snapped my fingers in front of his face. Like, an inch in front of his face. I'm not Stretch Armstrong.
3. In the carrier, jumped up and down while smacking his butt and chanting "CHICKA-CHICKA-CHICKEN!" or singing "This is the song that doesn't end..."
3. In the car, reached back and put my hand on his face a la Helen Keller. It seems like it should work really well but I think he just finds it comforting. Thanks a lot, Miracle Worker. Oh, I'm sorry, you need me to write it in your hand? Here goes: "F. U."
4. In the carrier, taken off his socks and shoes in January.
5. In the carrier and in the car, actually held open one of his eyelids.
Don't hate. Today when we made it home and he was still barely awake, I took him into the nursery and he went down like a sack of drunken lead potatoes in a centrifuge.
Boom.
It seems counter-intuitive. Let the child sleep, right? If he's sleepy now he'll be sleepy when he gets home, too, right?
Ssssh, little bunny. Let me give you some truth.
Babies get sleepy at the following times:
1. When you pull into the driveway.
2. When you pull into a parking spot at the grocery store.
3. When you're 4 blocks from home on foot.
4. When you are leaving for brunch.
Babies wake up like a freshly-hit crack ho at the following times:
1. When you walk in the front door of your house.
2. When it's bedtime.
3. When it's naptime.
4. When you arrive at brunch.
There's nothing worse on this earth than the under-10-minute powernap. Chicken falls asleep, seriously, as soon as I can see my house. By the time I'm in the front door he's been asleep for 4 minutes and thinks that's pretty much a wrap on the whole napping gig for the day.
"Mom, I know I usually do, like 90 minutes in the afternoon. But today, I think 4's good. Yeah, so that's like... sorry, I'm still wrapping my head around this whole "percentage" thing... 4% of my regular napping. That. Is. Clutch! Let's play with BUBBLES!"
... fast-forward 18 minutes...
THESE BUBBLES ARE FREAKING ME OUT!!!
WHY DON'T THEY EVER LAND?
IT'S SO BRIGHT IN HERE!
PICK ME UP!
NOT LIKE THAT!
PUT ME DOWN!
WHY AM I DOWN?
WHY AM I UP? I HATE UP!
TURN OFF THE LIGHTS!
OH MY GOD THE LIGHTS WENT OFF!
WHY ARE WE GOING IN THE NURSERY?
WHY IS THE WORLD SO CRUEL AND COLD?
WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BINKY?
NOT THAT ONE!
... fast-forward 45 minutes...
NAPS ARE BULLSHIT!
MY CRIB SUCKS!
MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!
LOOK AT ME!
STOP LOOKING AT ME!
LOOK AT ME!
IF YOU'RE LOOKING AT ME WHY AREN'T YOU HOLDING ME?
... fast-forward another 45 minutes...
I'M NOT TIRED!
I'M NOT TIRED!
I'M NOT TI--zzzzzzzzzzzz...
This, quite obviously, sucks. It is the major contributing factor to the empty bottle of gin in the spice cabinet. I keep it there so it's both handy and aromatic. (Just kidding. Who wants gin that smells like nutmeg? I'll tell you who, GOD, that's who. Nutmeg gin sounds freaking delightful and festive. I'm surprised Starbucks isn't already on top of that.)
So the other alternative is engaging in bizarre, public antics to keep Chicken awake until we can get into the nursery.
I have, in fact, myself, done the following to keep my child awake within a half-mile of my house:
1. In the carrier, loudly shaken and crumpled a paper bag next to his head.
2. In the car, reached back and snapped my fingers in front of his face. Like, an inch in front of his face. I'm not Stretch Armstrong.
3. In the carrier, jumped up and down while smacking his butt and chanting "CHICKA-CHICKA-CHICKEN!" or singing "This is the song that doesn't end..."
3. In the car, reached back and put my hand on his face a la Helen Keller. It seems like it should work really well but I think he just finds it comforting. Thanks a lot, Miracle Worker. Oh, I'm sorry, you need me to write it in your hand? Here goes: "F. U."
4. In the carrier, taken off his socks and shoes in January.
5. In the carrier and in the car, actually held open one of his eyelids.
Don't hate. Today when we made it home and he was still barely awake, I took him into the nursery and he went down like a sack of drunken lead potatoes in a centrifuge.
Boom.