When Mommy is forced to outgrow naps

I think there needs to be a book written and entitled: "When Mommy is forced to outgrow naps" because I would buy it. Heck, I could probably write it myself, although I don't think what I'd write would be very inspirational. It would be more depressing and bitter.

There's no secret there. I am a napper and I have thoroughly enjoyed the year when both of my children were taking naps in the afternoon. But, unfortunately, that time is nearing an end.


Katherine is very quick to tell even strangers, "I have outgrown my naps. I do not nap anymore." Which, theoretically, could have been true back 2 years ago, if we would have been able to put up with her little world crashing to pieces every evening, with plenty of crying, whining and pure out mean-ness to add to the pleasure of preparing something to eat. But, at almost 4, she's proving that even a half hour nap means not falling to sleep until 10:30, even when she's in bed by 9, and that her world is able to stay intact without naps.

So, it is a sad day in our house because she functions just fine and goes to sleep better at night without naps.

Now, Nathan on the other hand, still needs both naps. There are times he will decide not to take the morning nap and act like the afternoon one is up for grabs. Au contraire!

And as for the mornings when he decides that waking up when the clock starts with a 5, this is usually what I wake up to...
He tries to take his clothes off in protest, I guess.

He's pretty close to figuring out how to climb out of his crib too. I've seen him get within an inch or one good jump from completing the last hoorah over the edge of the crib. I dread the day I wake up to a little person carefully touching my sleeping face while he's holding some Q-tips, a steamer basket and has diaper rash cream smeared across his face with some in his mouth.
Katherine did that one time, and I still have no idea how long she was awake. She quietly left her new big girl bed and went playing. I saw remnants of her "play" in the kitchen by the pots and pans on the floor, in the office by the rubber bands spread across both office chairs, in the guest bathroom from the toilet paper strewn about and in the 4th bedroom because she got into the balloons and had brought me a handful of them asking me to blow them up. After scraping my heart off the floor and managing to swallow all of the fears of what could have been, we had the talk about not roaming about the house until I am up; and even established some new rules.

I'm thinking I better keep him in his crib as long as I can because something tells me balloons would be the least of my worries.