We’ve entered the fun phase when babies hate to nap for fear they might miss something. Every naptime begins as a scene from Goldilocks and the Three Bears: too tired? Not tired enough? Just right?
I only hit “just right” about 50% of the time. Which means at least once a day, I nurse and snuggle her only to have her thrash her body and smack her face as soon as she realizes she’s drowsy. It takes a toll.
So on the weekends, even though I desperately want her to nap in her crib, I relinquish control and hand her over to my husband. She falls asleep with the autumn leaves dangling over her head and the pavement under her daddy’s feet. Turns out, she loves running as much as he does. And it’s one less nap battle I have to fight.
Having a second kid means worrying less about how they sleep and just doing what works. I love it and I’m happier for letting go.