Okay, Preschool, you win.
Take twenty-five toddlers, stick them on mat, tell them to take a nap, and they sleep like little angels. Send them home on a weekend, to a mom who is trying to shuffle her time between play time, cleaning, attempting to cook meals, … and apparent poor time management skills, and the child falls asleep around three thirty.
How is this possible? Why do I fail so much at nap time?
Granted, my Sunday is eaten alive by dish washing, mountains of clothes to both wash and fold, vacuuming every room, and mopping all of the hard floors. Somewhere in there, we also decide to build a road for his cars on the carpet, and play a game of karate chop. Tiny Tot watches his niece, and loves to pretend to take people down.
That, and he’s a boy.
However, even with all of my household duties, quiet time–which in my opinion should nicely transition into nap time–begins right after lunch. Today? It didn’t work. Apparently I need one element to fit into my plan. A vital piece that can hold the dream of an early nap time together.
What is that missing key?
So, again … twenty-five, pint-sized people are stuck in a room, told to go to sleep, and somehow they all magically lay still for two hours on their own respective mats. And nap.
Forget it, I’m waving my white flag. Preschool teachers are the most amazing people on the planet. Tiny Tot’s is obviously a wizard with little humans, mine included.
Exhaustion finally allowed my Tiny Tot to zonk out a little after three. He is only ever allowed to sleep until five, though. Which is unfortunate for him–and me–alike. What’s more unfortunate is the fact that he never wants to wake up at five. This mom is always the one encouraging his return to this world. Trust me, it’s not something that I look forward to, ever.
Remember the phrase, let sleeping bears lie? I do. The proverb comes to me often when Tiny is dozing late in the afternoon.
Tiny Tot is a grumbly bear of astronomical proportions when awakened. The end result is an ugly, snot-covered, screeching fit. It isn’t pretty, and I am not looking forward to the ordeal. But it is a necessity, especially if I want to fall asleep before midnight.
See, I myself become a grumpy mother bear at the stroke of midnight. It’s amazing what tired can do to a person. Or in my case, a mommy. Because of my reaction when being forced to stay awake when I want to be asleep, I can’t blame my child for not wanting to be awakened before he is ready. But, I also refuse to allow him to stay up when Mommy has to work in the morning.
I am psyching myself up, though, for the looming fight. And I have been, for the last hour. My usual approach is to cajole, sing, cuddle, and generally force him to keep his eyes open. Trust me, I do this often. I can’t claim pro status, because I’m never sure who actually wins the wake up war.
I just know it isn’t me.
Tiny’s usual response is in the form of retaliation. At me. He screams the word, “No,” over and over, while batting me away. Once I force his pretty green eyes open, he proceeds to sit stock still–in mute anger–for the next hour.
In the end, he’s awake, so I guess I technically win the battle. But, seeing as I’m never happy about the end result, and neither is he, clearly we both lose.
Next week, I am going to have to figure out how his teacher convinces him to go down without a fight. She must hold some insight into solving the whole late-napping debacle.
Maybe she carries fairy dust.
If so, I’m stealing it.