You plan on having some "work time" during your child's nap time. This usually means that instead of taking the wonderful "rest when your baby sleeps" advice, you're running/making a mad dash to the computer to make as much of your time as possible. But that's okay. You're used to it. At least you'll have some quiet to work with. And oh, how you look forward to sweet, beautiful, still silence.
But your tired little angel falls asleep in the car on the way home from a morning of playing hard at the park despite all your efforts, including but not limited to singing "B-I-N-G-O!" at the top of your lungs and rolling the car windows up and down repeatedly. She naps for approximately twenty minutes, and the whole time you're saying to yourself "It'll be okay. She'll transfer to from the car seat to the crib with no problem.... Yeah, she's sacked out. She won't even know when I pick her up."
But you know it's all a lie.
You contemplate leaving her in the car seat in the garage to finish her nap until you remember that creepy story your best friend told you about the windowless van stalking around her neighborhood.
So you bravely start the transition. You do everything slowly, gently and purposefully. Pull the Velcro straps from her shoes s l l l l o o o o o w w w w l l l l y y y.... put her snuggle-y blanket in just the right place over your shoulder, leave the car doors and garage door and back door all open for now (no need for any extra noises that you can avoid), you use your crazy awesome mom skills to carefully slip her tiny little jacket off her arms, and then it's time for the big moment: the lift and drop that occurs when you ever so carefully put her in her crib. You hold your breath. You tiptoe out of the room. You gently shut the door and are ready for a celebration of success.
And then you turn and see it: the very last thing you want to see at that moment: her big blue eyes.
Oh, the paradox: they're so sweet and beautiful, but the sight of them breaks your heart.
"She'll go back to sleep," you lie again to yourself. She plays for twenty minutes in her crib, saying every word in her miniature vocabulary jovially, swooshing her canopy here and there, and giggling as she kicks the side of her bed.
Finally, you realize that your dreams of silence and work must wait, mommy guilt rears it's ugly head and you feel terrible that she's in there all alone just because you were expecting quiet time. So you go to retrieve her.
Then she's super cranky for the rest of the afternoon, but that little bit of shut eye was enough to keep her awake well past her usual nap time. And you know that when she takes a late nap, that means a late bedtime, and even though a later wake time would follow logically, you know deep down that it won't happen. In fact, she'll probably wake up even earlier. Every little whine is a reminder of the whole situation, and there's a lot of them.
Sigh. Oh, silence. How I long for you!
Any other moms been there?
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