I’ve been trying to get Sophie to nap in her cot for months. She sleeps like a pro at night, down by 6:30, until around 7. But try and put her down for a quick siesta then you’re in for a hissy fit of epic proportions. So I’ve been waiting until she starts yawning, coming to me for sleep, bringing me her blanket, then taking her upstairs first to see if she’ll suddenly decide the cot deserves the privilege of her daytime drool. Despite her fooling me and momentarily resting her head until I close the door, or whining and shouting for the few minutes I sit on the floor next to the cot incase she gets it into her head she is supposed to sleep now, we end up back on the sofa, her asleep and me wishing that the sandman would upgrade her cot’s sleepy dust to the bloody 24-hour kind.
Don’t get me wrong, she naps. Just in a moving car, on my chest or in the Connecta carrier. The latter being slightly more convenient for being able to move about the house but still proves quite difficult to get anything done that requires being able to hold or see things in front of your chest. So, most things, then.
At the start I welcomed all these lovely cuddly naps and would sit in awe of the tiny person I made and sniff her head for any remaining signs of that amazing baby smell. Now it’s weetabix and banana with a hint of shampoo (Although I am still forever in awe). I loved feeling that I was so special to her that she had to have the comfort of my chest and heartbeat to bring her down from the excitement of all those noisy toys and the Twirlywoos to 40 minutes of piece and recharge time. Now I still love that I give that to her but also my bum is a bit numb as I settled in an awkward position and know if I wake her up at the wrong moment she’ll have had too much sleep to continue the nap but not enough which means she’ll be planking with sleepy rage later. It was also a nice opportunity to watch an episode of the latest box set I was ploughing through, but I’m starting to get bored of staring at the TV and my to-do list is getting longer and longer.
Many will think that I’m nuts, that I should be pushing her harder to nap on my terms, letting her ‘cry it out’ (shudder, no thanks) and I can’t tell you how much I loathe the saying “making a rod for your own back”. I think we’ll be ok, she won’t be 25 and still popping round for a cuppa and a quick 40 winks on me, the most important thing to me as I raise this little baby is making her feel secure and loved, and if that means cuddles on the sofa twice a day, dreadful TV and numb bum aside, I’m going to cherish it, she won’t be a baby forever.
Oh and just so you know, this blog started while I was sat next to Sophie’s cot and I am now, of course, sat on the sofa with a baby and a blanket draped over me, watching cbeebies as I can’t find the remote.