Who are these routines for, anyhow?

I hate the process of getting my daughter to take naps. I enjoy the naps, but the Twister-style contortions we have to go through to convince her to take them in the first place are beyond frustrating.

For those who don't read this blog all the time, here's a recap: I use a yoga exercise ball to bounce my daughter into submission for her first nap, usually at around 9am. She then sleeps in my arms for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half. This makes it hard to do anything but sit in my rocking chair and watch subtitled movies at a really low volume. Granted, I really like my Criterion-watching time, and I love holding my daughter in my arms while she sleeps so peacefully.

This nap experience has been so significant that I have even considered writing a book about it, a parenting memoir crossed with film criticism. I may be the only target market in existence for such a book, but writing it has crossed my mind :)

But this napping situation is not sustainable, and it’s been going on for too long (she’s almost a year old, for crying out loud).

The morning nap process, while frustrating, is much less annoying than the afternoon process. This consists of, after meeting my wife for lunch (and a nursing session for Eleanor), driving around Denver for a very long time, waiting for Eleanor to go to sleep so I can transport her entire carseat into her room without waking her. Granted, she likes to sleep in her carseat, and she sleeps well, but I am tired of driving all around town in the hopes that she will fall asleep.

This afternoon, after a 1-hour sleep session in my arms this morning, Eleanor didn’t want to take a nap in her carseat after we met Katie for lunch. That made sense, as it hadn’t even been three hours since she woke up from her last nap.

But this was the way we did naps, so I was determined to just keep driving until she fell asleep.

Then I started thinking. Who does this routine serve? I wanted Eleanor to go to sleep on my terms so I could take a break from parenting for an hour or so. I wasn’t driving around town for her; I was doing it for myself. As that realization sunk in, with the air conditioning cranked up and the radio silent (both environmental conditions designed to encourage baby sleep), I made a decision:

Eleanor’s naps aren’t about me and my needs; they’re about hers. I caught myself not treating my daughter as a human being but as a thing that needed managing. That’s not a flattering place to find one’s self. I was miserable driving around town with no purpose other than making my daughter sleep. My daughter was miserable because she was sitting in the back of the car with nothing to do but stare out the window and talk to herself.

For the first time in a while, I made the decision to just go home. I unbuckled my daughter, and we played in the living room for while until she started to get quiet and (maybe?) sleepy. Then, I dragged the yoga ball, a couple books, and my daughter into her room. We read a couple of stories, I bounced her on the yoga ball until she fell asleep, and then I put her in her crib (a much more obvious place for naps, don’t you think?). She woke up during the transfer, but by now I was already committed. I said, “It’s naptime. I love you,” and I closed the door to her room. She talked to herself and cried for 15 minutes. But she finally fell asleep. For 35 minutes!

She usually takes 90-minute naps in the afternoon, but I’ll take this as a victory. A victory over my selfish needs and a victory for my daughter’s resilience and maturity.

***

Part 2

(As often happens, I wrote the above half of this post earlier in the week. The situation has changed.)

Well, we’re almost a week into the new nap scenario. After the short but successful nap that Monday afternoon, I decided to bite the bullet and plunge full into crib naps. It hasn’t been easy, but it hasn’t been as hard as I expected. Eleanor hasn’t cried for more than 20 minutes for any of her naps, and by Thursday, she was taking two naps a day, of normal length, and she seemed as cheery as ever when awake.

I’ve realized that Eleanor will never remember our naps in the easy chair and the Criterion movies. After a few more days, she probably won’t even remember the carseat naps either. I will remember all of it, though, and I feel a sense of loss for the intimacy of these naps. My daughter will never again be small enough to fall asleep in my arms. I haven’t been able to watch any movies during her new morning crib naps -- it feels like we something we did together. The Daily Show and Colbert Report are my morning nap break TV shows, now.

I do hope, however, that maybe my love of movies has passed down to her through the osmosis of these naps. Maybe she’ll even read these words, someday, and then she’ll decide to watch some obscure Japanese movie from the 1960s, just out of sheer curiosity.

And hopefully she’ll love it.

Mother's Day?

What do you do when there are two mothers in the house on Mother’s Day?  Who gets breakfast in bed?  Who gets treated like a queen?  More accurately – unless your child or children are swept away by a grandparent, who gets a break?

Well, not us.  We exchanged sweet cards and our son brought home flowers in a pot he painted a school, but after church it was still “all about the kid” even though it was Mother’s Day.  I kept telling our son, “Every day we do what you want to do and dote on you.  One day a year, it’s time to do what mommies want to do and for you to dote on us.”  He just didn’t get it.  Frankly, I was bitter although my partner handled it better.

Isn’t Mother’s Day supposed to be wonderful, perfect, delightful, amazing?  Well, much like other holidays and parenthood in general – it’s busy and messy and not the ideal you see or read about.  The sooner we admit this to ourselves and accept it, the better we’ll be and the happier our families will be.

My day on Saturday, which was my birthday, and Sunday, which was Mother’s Day, reminds me of Jesus on the boat.  After taking care of people’s needs, he withdrew by boat to a secluded place.  Clearly, he needed some “me time.”  However, the crowds heard where he was headed and met him there.  Jesus had compassion for them and healed their sick and then fed the 5,000.

Now, I don’t heal the sick or feed 5,000, but like Jesus being a Mom means I’m never “off duty.”  Our son is very blessed to have two moms who are overachievers.  So when I need to take a nap or my partner needs a break, we get those.  It’s just not for long.  It’s not for long, because our little guy needs us and wants to be with us.  He wants us to play basketball with him and ride bikes with him and play Candyland with him.

We are wanted and needed.  It is a wonderful thing.  As parents, we can look to Jesus who did much more than ride a bike with a child and know that parenthood is a gift.  It is a gift to be wanted and needed.  Even when it’s Mother’s Day or Father’s Day and we would like a break, we are still wanted and needed.

So, happy parenthood to you all.

Lauren Boyd 
Director of Programming and Membership at PHUMC
Partner to Candi and Mother to Miller who is 5 1/2

An open letter to the love of my life and the mother of my child

Dear Katie,

I find it difficult to convey how impressive you are. You are an incredible person, in so many ways and at such a magnitude that I am in awe of you. There is no fanfare for your greatness, which is why I feel like I need to write this and put it on the blog.

You are the Chief Curriculum Officer for a network of seven schools. You breastfeed our daughter four times a day and pump four ounces of milk every day so I can mix it into Eleanor’s cereal. Sometimes, you pump at 11pm, after a long day of endless meetings. You clear your schedule for about 45 minutes to an hour every day so we can have lunch as a family. This is something we wanted to do anyway, but it became a necessity when our daughter began refusing a bottle at four months. You still cook most of the meals in our house (you are a MUCH better cook than I am). And you help me keep the house in order despite the fact that our daughter’s favorite pastime is ripping dvds off a shelf and not putting them back (the nerve of an 11-month-old!).

You maintain a work/life balance that I can’t possibly imagine having to negotiate. You are highly respected within a work culture that values long hours and hard work, yet you advocate for a sustainable workplace and people listen to you. And you work so hard so I can stay home and take care of our amazing daughter, who’s a gift to us both in ways we’re only beginning to understand.

You are an incredible mother. You always have energy, love, and attention for Eleanor in ways that I envy. I love the way you sing to her. I love how you comfort her when she’s upset. I love how you encourage her to try new foods and to get up when she falls.

You also lead a small group Bible study every Sunday -- sometimes, you even provide the snacks, whether it’s baking cookies or making a run to Target for a veggie tray. And did I mention you’re training for a 10K, too? After Eleanor heads to bed, you steal into the guest room for a run on the treadmill, getting ready for the Bolder Boulder.

You are an incredible wife. We have been married almost 10 years (in July), been together for 14 years, and you are my rock. When I started having issues with anxiety/insomnia, after Eleanor was born, you encouraged me to get help. You make a commitment to come home a little early when I have appointments with my therapist. And you let me sleep in a little in the mornings while you get ready to go to work, especially if I’ve had trouble sleeping the night before. You take care of me, when I need it. And you do all of this with a uncommon grace that makes me fall in love with you again and again.

I am so excited that I get to celebrate this Mother’s Day with you, and I feel so fortunate that I have the opportunity to share this life journey with you. We have traveled a long path to parenthood, and I don’t think we would have made it this far without your strength. You deserve every accolade and every kind word thrown your way.

There is no drama in your greatness, which is what makes you great. I wish I had better words. I wish I could really make the world know just how amazing you are, even though those who know you (and many of this blog’s readers do) don’t even need me to tell them.

Happy Mother’s Day. I love you.

--Steve