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No Nap Joe, Part 2

July 20th, 2006

I’m sorry to have been away from writing for a few days.   Our computer died along with several thousand (no exaggeration) pictures of Kenny from the last 10 months that haven’t gotten printed yet.   My sweet resourceful hubby is spending a small fortune to recover them, so we can prove later on to our little boy that he did in fact grow up with us, in case he ever hits the teen angst years of wondering if he were perhaps adopted away from saner and hipper  parents.

And the no-napping saga continues.   I have to admit, 9 days out of 10 I can come to terms with the fact that some kids need less sleep than others.   That Kenny is a bright, energetic, social little guy who just doesn’t want to miss a minute of the party.   But that 10th day… it starts getting hard to cope with.   Can you imagine an office job that lasted from 6 in the morning until 8 at night with no lunch break, no coffee break, no go to the bathroom without a 21 pound wiggler either in your lap or clutching your kneecaps… you’d demand some sort of weekly spa package as compensation.   Me, I’d settle for just the private bathroom break most days.

This week has been a tough one.   It started Monday afternoon.   Kenny  was  so tired, so cranky and wired; all of which is highly unusual for him: he’s normally the happiest baby you’d ever meet, sleep or no sleep.   But he was honest-to-goodness exhausted and absolutely adamant about not sleeping.   I nursed him, I rocked him, I sang, I jiggled, I pleaded, I put him in there to “cry it out” (yikes!), I actually got down  on my knees in the living room to pray for help.   (Unfortunately, Dudley took that gesture as some sort of submissive acknowledgement of his leadership and ran over to bite me in the back of the neck in glee.)   But his screaming continued and got more frantic by the second.  

So I did what any other desperate Mommy would do.   I swooped him up into  a big hug, then plopped him down into the kitchen floor with a big pile of pots and pans and spatulas and let him have at it.   Meanwhile, I hacked away at my emergency stash of chocolate chip cookie dough in the freezer with a dull paring knife.   As  I  dug out the rich chocolate morsels, I started thinking that if I were ever to become a restauranteur, I would offer big spoonfuls of fresh cookie dough on the dessert menu.   Thinking about rich desserts, I started to think that chocolate this good needed some shiraz to go with it.    I glanced at the clock.   4:45.   hm…. a little too early for a glass of wine.   I glanced wistfully over to the wine rack in the dining room, and thank goodness I did because moments before, Kenny had abandoned his calphalon drum set and set out over to the dog bowls where he was inches away from sticking his perfect pink tongue into Dudley’s water.   With lightening speed, I covered the space and snatched him up, only to be awarded for my heroics with fresh, frustrated cries.

I decided that 4:45 was really practically 5 o’clock anyway, and maybe that glass of wine was a fine idea.   I poured myself a tiny glass and took a long sweet sip.   The mere fact that I was calmed seemed to calm Kenny and I set him back in his pile of noise-makers and went back to my rapidly-defrosting pile of cookie dough.

“Maaamaaaam   …. Maaaaamaaaam…” I looked down.   Kenny was holding out a spatula to me with a big grin on his face.   “Yes, you have a spatula!” I said with a smile, going back to the chocolate.   He started on a fast crawl into the living room.   “Maaaaamaaaa!”   I looked up.   He’d crawled over to his giant neon green  beach ball, and was holding it proudly above his head.   I started to say, “Yes, you have a ball!” when he smiled from ear to ear and threw it with all his might in my general direction.   “MAAAAMAAAAAAAAM!”  

That’s when it hit me.   He didn’t just want to play instead of nap.   He didn’t want to be distracted with random objects to play with.  He wanted to play with ME.  

I put down the cookie dough and walked over to where he was sitting.   I sat down next to him, and he immediately climbed up into my arms, covering my chin with his slobbery bites that are undoubtedly kisses.   “maaamaaaamaaaamaaa” he nuzzled into my chest.   Oh is there any moment sweeter than this?

So Kenny doesn’t nap.   Every day this week we’ve had an hour or so when he’s desperately tired and desperately against any sort of sleep suggestion.    A couple of times I’ve packed him into the car and let him snooze to the sleepy sounds of the highway.   This afternoon we took a quiet tour of our yard and back deck and counted boats and birds.   I’m still eating too much cookie dough.   And I wouldn’t trade a single second of his sweet smiles and baby talk for 100 days straight of nap times.



  1. Kimmie says

    You are such a good mommy. Next time, call me and I’ll come over and sip wine with you! :lol::lol::lol:

    July 21st, 2006 | #

  2. MommyBlog ~ Your Online Community for Moms » The Golden Hour says

    […] Kenny is napping.   He is naping for the 19th day in a row, that is, every day that we have been living in Scottsdale.   For those of you who may be new to this blog, Kenny did not nap for most of the first 15 months of his life.   In fact, his  real  name was “No Nap Joe.”   So I need you to understand that having an hour to myself, a consistant hour that I can actually count on, is entirely new, entirely foreign and even a little wierd.   Oh, I’m enjoying it, don’t get me wrong; it’s just that it’s so unusual that the house seems spooky-quiet and I… can I say it?… I miss my little boy!   I’m totally not used to a minute without him during the day and here I am, doing laundry without him hanging on my leg or pulling clothes out of the dryer; here I am eating a snack that is neither healthy or kid-friendly without him pleading for a bite; here I am writing on the computer without him begging to sit in my lap so he can mash his little fingers into the keys… […]

    February 9th, 2007 | #

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