I love naps.
At three and a half, Son still takes them fairly often. Then he’s always been a good sleeper, sleeping 11-6 at three weeks and 8-7 at 2 months.
Since he went to one-a-day naps they usually run 2-3 hours, and they’re a godsend to me. I love having that time to pay bills, catch up on housework, read or even nap myself. Did I mention that I love naps?
The past few months his naps have become more sporadic. He no longer naps every day, but he’ll often play quietly in his room for “quiet time” instead. At this point we could have given up on naps altogether, but I’m he’s just not ready to do that yet.
The past ten days we’ve had family visiting, including several cousins. Son loooooves his cousins. We go over to my Dad’s early every day, and they play together all day long. I’ve not even tried to get him to nap, and when we leave for the fifteen-minute trip home in the evenings he’s usually asleep before we’re halfway home.
It’s been a wonderful but exhausting ten days, and we’re both starting to feel the effects. I’ve not been sleeping well and Son was ornery and whiny. Today we both needed naps. So despite the tears we left the family behind and came home to nap.
We walked in the door and I immediately walked Son up to his room and put him in bed. I don’t know who was asleep quicker, but I will tell you that I slept for two hours, and I slept hard. The kind of hard where you wake up totally disoriented, not even knowing who or where you are. The kind where you have a pounding headache and a dry mouth and you’re still tired. The kind where you don’t really feel better, but you know you had to take the nap anyway.
Son, on the other hand, awoke happy and excited and ready to take on the rest of the day.
I’m sure I’ll be ready, too. As soon as the ibuprofen kicks in.