It was time to put T.Puzzle down for his nap. He immediately begins to run away from me telling me over and over, “I wake up, Mommy. I wake up.” He means he is clearly awake and he is not having it.
I manage to carry his nearly forty pound frame upstairs. Once upstairs, I have to put a fresh pull-up on for his nap. I ask him to retrieve one from the stash in his room. He goes over to the columns of pull-ups neatly aligned in a cloth holder that is blue and plaid with a baseball motif. He proceeds to start chucking them one by one all over the floor until he finds one with a picture on it to his liking. I don’t fight that right now. At least he brings me the pull-up and is mostly willing to change into it.
I ask him if he wants a story. He shakes his head vigorously ‘no’. “I wake up, Mommy. I wake up.”
I heave him into his crib (I know he is ready for a big boy bed, I can’t fathom that change until Full Speed’s second surgery is complete). I almost break my back in the process and he thumps to the mattress. I didn’t realize that you could lie down defiantly. Somehow he achieves just that.
I head downstairs to fold up some laundry and catch some peace and quiet. It had already felt like a long day dealing with T.Puzzle’s ever-changing moods and demands. I click on the monitor and then it begins.
“I WAKE UP, MOMMY! I WAKE UP! I GET UP! I GET UP!” I can barely understand him through the screams.
All Moms face this challenge. The time when your child transitions out of napping is perilous and fraught with emotional danger. I went through this before with Full Speed. He gave up naps so early that it could make a grown woman cry (and I did). How I handled it was a couple rough months of putting him down regardless of if he slept and eventually he adapted. It became known as “quiet time”. It actually turned into something of beauty once we survived the initial shock of it. Now, it is a time where he is in his room playing quietly (as quietly as Full Speed can) with cars, Power Rangers or Transformers. I think it is good because it helps foster his ability to play independently (which for Full Speed is a very rare thing) and gives Mommy a much, much needed (and deserved) break.
I’m feeling more confident that the transition to “quiet time” will be easier with T.Puzzle because he already has such a rich, inner-world of imagination. He plays independently stupendously and he loves stuffed animals. Since stuffed animals are not really his big brother’s forte, he gets all of Full Speed’s leftovers which makes his crib a veritable zoo of play. He has every stuffed animal under the sun.
So after a good half-hour of hysterics (his, not mine I promise), he sort of gives up and I can hear him start to play. Awesome. This is great. I feel movement towards the end goal of “quiet time”.
Then, we get a delivery. Oh, you Moms out there know the horror of a poorly timed doorbell chime. T.Puzzle hears the bell ring and assumes someone has come to visit. He is beside himself that he can’t come down and see who is here. He is so distraught it sounds like a pack of hyenas is trying to drag him away. I brace myself for the next round of screaming knowing full well if I go up and try to explain the concept of ‘just a delivery’ to him, it will only increase his despair.
Fortunately, he recovers quickly and after a good five minutes, he is back to playing with his animals. Great.
I decide I’m thirsty. That was a big mistake. Not that I was thirsty, but that I wanted to have ice with it. I put my cup up to the refrigerator door and push the ice dispenser. As the ice crashes loudly into my cup, guess what T.Puzzle says?
“I WAKE UP, MOMMY! I WAKE UP!”
I gave up, I couldn’t take it anymore.
T.Puzzle, 1 – Mommy, 0