I’ve heard tales of this sort of thing on the street.
A child under the age of three phasing out his afternoon nap.
An Urban Myth, of course.
Or at the very least, a lack of parental know-how. They must not be timing things accordingly. Perhaps the lighting isn’t adequately creating a restful atmosphere. Overly stimulating post-lunch media? Maybe they serve juice instead of water?
At any rate, it couldn’t happen to me. Certainly not. I shan’t even entertain the thought.
Well, peeps. I’m here with my street cred to tell ya,
Zachary’s naps have sprung with the spica. We fought it. We denied it. I bounced the kid silly for an hour the other day until he finally realized it was his crib or motion sickness. But, even that has stopped working.
“I’m just not tired, Mommy”
And I believe him.
He’s not tired at 12:00 pm.
Or at 1:00, or 2:00
It’s debatable at 3:00.
And at 4:00…
the sky comes crashing down around us all in a loud, thunderous, decimating explosion.
“Mommy! I’m tired! I want to take a nap!
What happens if the child takes a nap at 4:00 pm?
He’s up till 10:00 pm.
So, after much debate, discussion and tears (ours, not his), we made the painful decision to try something new this week.
No nap. Not even an attempt. An EARLY bedtime and all should smooth out within a few days.
How did it go?
In fact, I made the mistake of accepting invitations for two play dates this weekend, planned for the early evening/wartime hours.
I did this TWICE this weekend. Because evidentially I didn’t embarrass myself quite enough on Saturday and felt the need to go back for more on Sunday.
Two different evenings.
Two different psychotic break-downs.
Two different calm, sane families as witnesses (both with a child who sits at the dinner table, quietly consuming prepared food for a period of time spanning longer than ten minutes-something I know nothing about even with all naps intact)
It would seem that I am trying my best to ensure no friends are made here in our new neighborhood.
My sweet, loving, slightly precocious little boy turns into a high-pitched, squealing banshee, who would be prescribed 17 different drugs if observed by a child psychiatrist during these episodes. (And I would certainly be prescribed a handful of my own, should I catch the doc’s eyes, even for a quick second.)
He is out of control.
I am out of control.
Isabelle joins the ranks of the ‘out of control’ just for uniformity, I guess.
She naps just fine-
Not three and four hour stretches I’ve heard parents claim their kids give them. I know nothing of that sort of luxury. Never have. Good Lord, what on earth would I do with that kind of time?
If one of my children has ever napped for more than one hour and 45 minutes, I’ve checked for a pulse.
So, that’s that.
Except it’s not.
This nap CANNOT go. It’s not working. There is a reason why kids don’t usually drop it until after preschool begins. It is unnatural for any human to go through 13 hours of entertaining two toddlers without so much as a five-minute reprieve.
This just won’t do.
Must figure out a new plan.
Until then, all post-3:00pm play dates are out of the question. I must salvage what friendships remain!