When the boys don't sleep, my anxiety skyrockets. I have things to do while they nap. I have a work from home job. I clean. I cook. I attempt to maintain our household. Asher is nearing 5 years old and he doesn't nap often, but he still plays in his room quietly for at least an hour. About once every two week, he naps. He wakes up like an ugly bear, but he does nap.
Jacob is 2. He needs to nap. He is inconsolable at night if he doesn't. He takes forever to fall asleep. He needs to be rocked a certain way, and have a certain blankie, and likes music. And no socks. When he doesn't nap, our lives are dramatically different.
I often wonder how one small thing has such a large impact on such a large part of our day, but it does. When Jacob is supposed to be sleeping and he is not, my mind spins. I think of the whining. The grocery store trip that will be catastrophic. The inability to find a snack that will satisfy him, since he is really tired, not hungry. The demands of a two year old that will be magnified by exhaustion. I start to brace myself for hours of patience.
And then. Then the whining stops. The monitor is quiet. The other monitor is quiet.
Simultaneous naps have been achieved. It is like a lunar landing, this rare occurrence. I tiptoe around trying not to jinx it. What to do? Shower in peace? Clean the kitchen? Work for a while? Have some tea and finish the next chapter in my book? Mostly, just relish in the quiet. For 11 whole minutes. The longest, quietest 11 minutes of the day.