(Not that we would all try to attempt this in the same bed)
There used to be a time when little boys around here napped daily. The house became quiet. Oliver snuggled up to me and nursed himself to sleep while Milo hit the hay with hardcore 3-hour slumbers. I looked back at this post recently and realized that it was two years ago, almost to the day. Oliver now wears Milo’s old shirt, Emil in Oliver’s old baby shirt.
Trying to fit three boys and a mama in an arm’s reach photo proves nearly impossible. Almost as impossible as nap time.
And the major culprit is not who you might think… no, not the screaming babe. He is generally pretty happy to curl up with his mama for a mid-afternoon snooze. And no, not the four-year-old ball of energy who tends not to stand still for more than a nanosecond. He can still be convinced, about twice a week, to take a siesta.
Nope, try again. I’ll give you a hint. He is small and round and sweet like a peach. Oh, Oliver. He rarely naps. We try, and try, and try. He sits in his crib and sweetly talks to himself, sings, plays, chants… then screams. But no sleep.
“Have you tried putting him down earlier?” asks a playground mom. Oh yes. And later, and mid-morning, even. No dice. “Have you tried really wearing him out in the morning?” Um, have you seen the speed at which we live our lives??? Dude. If we wore him out any more, he’d be comatose. I guess what we get is what we get. Sleep is not really an option in this house anymore. I think we may have all forgotten how.
But no worries. I wouldn’t want to miss this anyway.