Would you like to hear about nap time at my house?
I knew you did!
We are on a thirty minute schedule with Mr. Ezra currently. That is, he sleeps for 30 minutes, is happy and awake for 30 minutes, turns suddenly fussy and I spend 30 minutes putting him back to bed.
It is super fun.
The hardest part is that he USED to just put himself to sleep with little effort on my part. I'd wrap him up, lay him down and walk away. He'd stare happily at the ceiling, toking on his binky until he'd drift off peacefully and sleep for two hours.
That has been shot straight to the bad place. I don't know why! I didn't change anything up on him. He just decided he liked this version of his life better.
It wouldn't be so bad except that the 30 minutes of jiggling, rocking, nursing, shushing, swaying and praying just kind of puts a real damper in my day. Especially because it's every hour or so.
The worst is though that as I'm doing all of the above, I know, I JUST KNOW that my children are engaging in shenanigans that make me cringe. I can kind of hear their goings-on through the door and all the white noise, and I know it isn't good. Henry tends to be fine, Spencer is a bit unpredictable, and Oliver is straight up the shenanigan king. This upsets me.
So I'm all jiggle jiggle, bounce bounce bounce, sway sway, hip circle hip circle (I totally missed my calling as a hula dancer!) rock rock, jiggle jiggle jiggle, I'm thinking, "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep, I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep, I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep!"
It's good and bad when Oliver comes in the room and refuses to go. Bad because he's very loud and doesn't care in the slightest that I'm ready to punt him into the next county if he doesn't shut it! Good because when he's with me I know he's not feeding the dog an entire bottle of Sweet Vidalia Onion salad dressing (true story).
But by the time 30 minutes of not knowing what the frickety frack my kids have destroyed or even if they are still at home, or perhaps they caught a bus down town, I get a little panicked, and my swaying and jiggling and praying picks up the pace.
Then I try to lay Ezra down and he fusses so it's back up again, and lather rinse repeat until I finally am successful. I creep out, step on a package of baby wipes that makes the loudest "crinkle" in the world (What the heck baby-wipe-package maker! Ever heard of QUIET PACKAGING?) and rush to see the mayhem in which I live.
Then I do it all over again in an hour when Ezra is tired.
It makes getting anything done quite challenging. Which is why I'm blogging and not doing the dishes. Priorities people. PRIORITIES!