My mother used to always advise people to run a vacuum or turn on a radio when their babies take naps. She would proclaim to anyone who inquired how she’d be as loud as she could, vacuuming while I slept. Why, you might wonder? So the baby (me) wouldn’t startle and wake before ready.
Think about it for a second – if there’s a lot of noise happening in the background, the baby will sleep through noise easier, sleeping more soundly. Get it?
Thus began my mom career of turning on the TV, or radio, or having stuff happening in the background to make noise while all my babies slept. In fact, I find *I* need noise, too, craving the TV going in the background, or music, or something! As much as I crave quiet when the kids are fighting or being ornery, I find at times that quiet is deafening. Maybe it’s my mother’s fault (or my own for being the mom to many small children).
Today, though, Baby V was being a Tiny Terrorist™. She was definitely feeling better and back to torturing me with her evil, soul-killing ways. It was a tag-team maneuver, actually. The second I’d think she was finally down for her morning nap, her brother would need me or ask me something, or make some noise, doing something that startled her back to awake to torture me further. The cycle was endless. And maddening. And endless. Did I mention endless?
I practically nursed her on and off all morning, almost getting her to sleep, only for her to be woken back up, startled, ready to play like she wasn’t on the brink of slumber. I was certifiably losing my shiz.
Finally, at 11:40-ish (yes, I knew the time), she let the sleep come. I gingerly laid her down, tip-toed away from her, and SWORE TO JESUS that I would LOSE.MY.MARBLES. (or what’s left) if my son made any noise to wake her.
I shooshed him for stepping,
for swooshing too loudly on the couch,
even breathing too loudly.
My GOSH! I don’t know why I didn’t just turn up the TV or something, but I walked around here crazypants doing everything in my power not to make any noise, and haaaaaaating life.
I even debated not drinking anything for fear of using the water dispenser on the fridge. I was too afraid to cook anything, so my dude had a PB&J sandwich for lunch (which made me wince when I had to open the fridge for the jelly).
I have never, ever been so quiet in my life (!!!!!). I did NOT like it. Staying quiet sucks. (I can see why kids hate to do it now.)
It just reaffirmed my belief that loud napping is the way to go, am I right? What kind of parent are you?