There is a day of absolute dread and horror in the life of every mother. No, it's not the day two weeks after your first child was born, that you went shopping by yourself. You were trying on bathing suits, because there was no way you were strutting all your stuff in a two piece...when suddenly your milk came down. You stood like a garden fountain and flooded the floor of the dressing room while looking at your new body in the mirror thinking, "You have got to be kidding me...is this really my life?". Then you snuck out without telling anyone because you were so embarrassed...I mean, you couldn't possibly tell the size 00 teenager that was working that you had just turned the floor of the third dressing room into Lake Tahoe....Nope, that was bad (it really happened) but it's not the day I'm talking about, I'm talking about the day that your child stops napping...
Naps have been getting later and later at our house. It's not uncommon for Sam to go down at say, 3:30 wake up at 5:30, eat dinner and go back to bed around 8:00. Some days, we just don't nap and then my little monster goes to bed at 7:00. Those days are awful from about 4:00 on...really awful, crazy, irrational, defiant, mean, evil, freaky behavior happens and so I'm just not ready to lose the nap!
Yesterday, Sam put up a fight, a kicking screaming, sobbing fight (a sure sign that he is exhausted). Very often I stick him in his room and let him scream till he goes to sleep. Yesterday, I had to make a choice though...Grace was asleep...it wasn't worth putting him down if it meant that she would wake up. Instead, I did what any good mother would have done. I parked Sam in front of PBS and went back to the laundry. This is what I found when I came in to check on him...all of fifteen minutes later.
Yeah, I guess he wasn't tired...
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