Sunday, July 13, 2008

Is That ... Silence?

Lest I ever doubt Dr. Marc Weissbluth, my kids make sure to show me just how crucial sleep is to their behavior. Both days this weekend Nutmeg behaved OK in the morning, and then got more and more out of hand all afternoon, just as we were preparing to head out to meet friends.

Saturday, we actually canceled our afternoon plans* because she was just having a lot of crying fits, acting silly like splashing water all over the bathroom when I asked her to wash her face, and generally not behaving. We had let her stay up until about 9 the night before to finish watching her favorite movie, the Wisconsin-made "Little Sister."** Her normal bedtime is closer to 7:30.

So, when we canceled our plans at 2:30 or 3, I asked her if she wanted to go upstairs and lie down. Without another word, she went upstairs, and the next time I was up there I saw that she was conked out on the bed, mouth open. Two hours later she woke up like a different child. But what with the late afternoon nap, she didn't get to bed until 8:30 last night, and we ended up with a repeat of the same problem today.

We took the El to Millennium Park and Nutmeg was OK most of the way, but she had a crying fit on the way home, and so did Pebbles, separately. By the time we got home it was just after 6, and we just fed them dinner and put them to bed. There was some crying and protesting over this from both girls -- Nutmeg claimed as she so often does these days that she knows we don't love her.

But the house has been perfectly silent since 7 p.m., and it's now 10 minutes to 11. And yes, after a weekend of squawking kids, constant housework and a husband mostly busy with projects***, four hours of silence worked like a spa day on Mommy.

Bring on the four-day week, in which I will (I hope) place one more Blogher-related article, take care of a few trip-related things, cook four dinners and lunches, do some pre-reporting for BlogHer articles, pack three people, and (oh yeah) take care of two little girls. Wish me luck.

* We were going to see a friend sing at the Folk and Roots Festival in Lincoln Square, then eat at Spoon Thai using gift certificates.

** My dad's review: "Worst. Movie. Ever." I'd call it Mister Rogers with a touch of Hitchcock.

** Epu vacuumed some suspicious-looking paint chips and dust off the basement stairs, painted over the chipping basement walls and some of the landing with heavy primer to discourage further chipping, used his new reciprocating saw to transform our ugly, rusting basketball hoop into a sharp-topped four-foot tall pipe that I call "Vlad the Impaler," and painted the guest room ceiling. And he ironed a six-foot-high pile of his shirts that had accumulated in the laundry area.

1 comment:

Sara said...

Ah, the power of sleep. I've been working on getting Grace to bed a bit earlier each night, and it's actually making a difference. But, there must be something with how four-year-olds are wired, as well. Holy drama, Batman.