Napping

and i'm not proud of it

There’s not a chance she’s getting her down for a nap,” I heard my Dad say to my sister as I carried Kate up the stairs with a water bottle to find a book.

He had reason to say it.

We’d been home a week and I had only successfully gotten Kate to nap once.

Well twice actually, but one of those naps I did things I wasn’t proud of.

---

You see, on Monday, I came downstairs after working all morning and grabbed the last Back to Nature fig bar from the kitchen. Both girls had been swimming pleasantly in the pool for over an hour. I opened the package and ate one of the two brown bars as I slid the sliding glass door to the pool area open.

As soon as both girls saw me with the snack in hand, they emerged from the water and swarmed around my half eaten fig bar like flies. ‘Mommy, I want a snack’. ‘Mommy, can I have that?’ When they realized they had both asked for the single remaining fig bar, the, ‘but I asked for it first’ began.

My family watched as the girls unraveled. Wanting to seem like I had a calm and respectable parenting style I looked at both girls calmly as four little arms dangled in my face, with their fists clenched in escalating rage.

I inhaled, “If we only have one fig bar left, does anyone have any ideas on what a good way to share is?” I said with a mix of desperation and confidence.

‘But I asked first,’ they repeated. I broke the fig bar in two pieces and passed each girl an equal half.

And then, Kate went boneless.

Her purple swimsuit dripped piles of water around my feet and onto my pants. She squished the fig bar in her fist. In the same motion, I stood up and unclasped her yellow floaties. I swooped my forearm across her chest as her body folded over my arm and toted her inside. She screamed the entire way upstairs.

I stripped off her suit through her screams. I looked into her glassy blue eyes, “You. May. Not. Scream. Like. That.” I said between gritted teeth.

I pulled on her pajama shirt, laid out her pink blanket and plopped the pile of library books on top of the bed. “We will read these books, we will listen to Rafi bedtime songs, and we will take a nap,” I said.

Her screams became sobs and eventually slowed as we laid down on the propped up pillows and began to read.

She made it through reading Strictly no Elephants, Guess How Much I Love You, and another book we got from the library. As we closed the last book she sat up and stretched out her blanket. I laid still.

She stood and stretched her hands up. I watched.

She did a downward dog and started to roll. I held my breath.

She slid off the side of the bed. I bolted up and grasped her arms before her feet could hit the floor. I laid her body on the bed.

“KATE,” I said her one syllable name sharply.

I had enough, I riffled through the travel bag and pulled out the white bottle of melatonin chewables. I opened the purple lid, bit off half of the grape tablet and gave the other half to the three year old in front of me.

It was 3PM.

I knew this was a risk.

Would she think this is bedtime, and wake up at 3AM unable to go back to sleep?!

Would it wreck her if she actually napped this late in the day?

Did I even care? She was already a wreck?

She wrestled around the bed as I played sleepytime music.

“Can I pleaseeee chew on something, Mommy?” I need to chew on something Mommy. Mom. Mom, please.”

I tried to ignore her requests but she persisted.

I knew I had the baby’s pacifier in my pocket. She was always begging us to use it “just for a little” she’d say to us anytime she saw it in his crib.

As she rolled restlessly, I reached in my pocket. “Kate, if I give you Thomas’ pacifier, do you promise to lay still and close your eyes.

She stopped mid-roll, stared at the light blue pacifier and popped it in her mouth. Clayton would kill me if he knew what I was doing.

I knew we were close. I strategically pulled out the Velveteen Rabbit book and slowly read the dozens of words on each page, exaggerating the lame dialogue.

Her breaths slowed and her eyelashes closed. I creaked down the stairs and didn’t tell a soul what happened.

---

Having heard my Dad’s latest statement of doubt, I was not coming down without this child napping and I was going to do it clean this time.

I started the timer on my Garmin to see exactly how long the nap battle would last.

I texted Clayton for advice. Keep your boundaries. Say no to her requests. After she’s restless she will soon get still.

Fifty-two minutes later she was out.

This time there was no pacifier, no melatonin, and no effing Velveteen Rabbit.

I came downstairs and found my Dad in his office. ‘Well”, he said?

She’s asleep.