Catnaps
Winter is a cozy time. So cozy, in fact, that Lucia has taken to falling asleep in her stroller when we are out and about. Last week, we went to the Brooklyn Children’s Museum with a friend, and had a great time—Lucia walked around the museum and looked at everything, rapt. We’re planning to become members and go often. It was a ridiculously snowy, slushy, wintry day, and Lucia was bundled to the hilt. After walking for a few minutes toward the subway, I peeked in at her—fast asleep.
Today I took her to a Babies & Books program at the Brooklyn Public Library and then let her walk around the stacks for a while, which she fully enjoyed. She did her cute little near-run and tried to pull all the books off the shelves (thankfully, they were wedged in tightly). To prevent a catnap, I gave her a Mum-Mum as soon as we went outside. Again, it was snowing like crazy, and Lucia was warm and bundled. We barely got to Union St. before she was conked out.
Catnaps are bad, bad news for us. Lucia is already not a great napper—she’s like a clock, getting up after an hour, an hour and a half on a really good day—and catnaps make the “real” nap even shorter. But this baby, once desiring sleep, is hard to sidetrack. Cheek-pinching, loud singing, wild swings of the stroller, even—forgive me—raising of the stroller visor so a little snow gets on her face…nothing works, and I feel pretty awful about waking such a slumbering sweetie. But I’m really flummoxed. These tire-out-the-baby outings are, I think, the key to better naps (and to surviving the winter). But if every outing ends in a catnap, my best-laid plans will be thwarted.
I’m thinking more interesting snacks might work, but I have no other ideas. The coziness of snuggly hats, warm bunting, the shh-shhh of snow falling all around, the gentle rocking of stroller tires over snow piles…if it were me being pushed around, I’d fall asleep too. I need to find something interesting enough to keep her awake for 15 minutes. That’s all I need. If I weren't freelancing, I wouldn't care--I'd spend the stroller-nap shopping or sitting in a cafe. But Lucia's naptime is my only time to work. I am very protective of this time...and I will not give it up without a fight.
Today I took her to a Babies & Books program at the Brooklyn Public Library and then let her walk around the stacks for a while, which she fully enjoyed. She did her cute little near-run and tried to pull all the books off the shelves (thankfully, they were wedged in tightly). To prevent a catnap, I gave her a Mum-Mum as soon as we went outside. Again, it was snowing like crazy, and Lucia was warm and bundled. We barely got to Union St. before she was conked out.
Catnaps are bad, bad news for us. Lucia is already not a great napper—she’s like a clock, getting up after an hour, an hour and a half on a really good day—and catnaps make the “real” nap even shorter. But this baby, once desiring sleep, is hard to sidetrack. Cheek-pinching, loud singing, wild swings of the stroller, even—forgive me—raising of the stroller visor so a little snow gets on her face…nothing works, and I feel pretty awful about waking such a slumbering sweetie. But I’m really flummoxed. These tire-out-the-baby outings are, I think, the key to better naps (and to surviving the winter). But if every outing ends in a catnap, my best-laid plans will be thwarted.
I’m thinking more interesting snacks might work, but I have no other ideas. The coziness of snuggly hats, warm bunting, the shh-shhh of snow falling all around, the gentle rocking of stroller tires over snow piles…if it were me being pushed around, I’d fall asleep too. I need to find something interesting enough to keep her awake for 15 minutes. That’s all I need. If I weren't freelancing, I wouldn't care--I'd spend the stroller-nap shopping or sitting in a cafe. But Lucia's naptime is my only time to work. I am very protective of this time...and I will not give it up without a fight.
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