Yesterday, I was determined to take a nap, and I strictly cautioned Peter that if he did not lie down his toddler bed privileges would be revoked, and I would put him in the crib. He wanted the door left open, and this would have been fine, IF my other children had been dutifully following my instructions to BE QUIET, but instead, they were downstairs squabbling. One pugnacious seven year old was sent to his downstairs bedroom, and one shrieking six year old needed to be relocated to her upstairs bedroom right next to Pete’s room.
Pete had set up camp in the doorway: his pillow, blankie and stuffed animals were all neatly arranged on the floor in front of the door which was blocked by a gate. Knowing he would never fall asleep with all the chaos, I told him I had to close the door; he had to go back to bed. He refused (he’s two, that’s what they do), so I put him in the crib, and lay myself down on my bed.
I was really tired, and I tried to convince myself that just being horizontal for a half hour would be as good as actually sleeping. Sleep seemed an impossible goal given the protestations coming from my youngest child’s room. Then Jenny came upstairs, and I would have allowed her to play with Katie in their room, IF they could have been QUIET, but they could not. So I chased Jenny downstairs.
Once again, on my bed, I tried to sleep. But from Peter’s room I hear:
“Nap time over, Mommy? Nap time over? Nap time over, Mommy? Two minutes! Two minutes! Nap time over! Two minutes!”
Believe it or not, he did manage to fall asleep after that, and so did I, briefly.