Kiddo and Husband and I are on a trip to the East Coast, which is good because a) getting away for a while means I won’t be so sick of the playgrounds when we return b) we’re getting to see family and friends and they are infinitely delighted by my kid (score!) and c) there’s a chance I’ll have to do fewer dishes for the next two weeks. The trip is off to a great start as Kiddo and I just got back from a lovely afternoon at a friend’s house, where we were greeted with lattes and mimosas (for me), a magical train set (for him), and lots of mommy vent time which is both good for the soul and PRACTICAL for picking up parenting tips, thanks everyone I’ve ever talked to at the playground for all of those. As we were talking, and I kept broken record repeating over and over again that my friend is a superhuman genius for raising three small boys when I find one difficult, the subject of sleep came up, and my friend explained that she can get by pretty well on only six hours a night. That’s when it hit me like a sippy cup launched by the hand of a toddler who didn’t want water he wanted orange juice: I NEED NINE HOURS OF SLEEP A DAY. Preferably all in one, uninterrupted stretch (don’t worry, that happens like never). Less preferable, but also acceptable: seven to eight hours per night, plus a small nap during the day.
There. I said it. I like and NEED a lot of sleep. Maybe it makes me weak. Maybe it makes me a wuss or less of a mother because I can’t tough it out and down fourteen coffees and tap into my inner vampire or Olympic athlete and go, go, go. You know what? I don’t really give a flying squirrel what it means. It’s just the way it is. I LOVE SLEEPING. And fuck it, I refuse to allow a child of mine to permanently deprive me of it. My one-year-old sleeps all the FREAKING TIME, so why can’t I? Oh, that’s right: I CAN AND I WILL. Even if it means I have to go to bed at nine. I may not sleep IN anymore, but I can sleep UP. That is my new term for pre-sleeping. Gone are the days of lounging in bed in the morning, but I CAN STOCK UP ON SLEEP AHEAD OF TIME. Here’s one way to feel rested come Sunday morning: go to bed at ten on Saturday night. I know, it’s genius.
I am also an adult woman who loves to nap. I’m really good at it, too. Maybe even champion level. I mean, it’s not on my LinkedIn Profile, but maybe it should be. Punch me in the face if you must, but I’ll continue to take cat naps as long as I can get my one-year-old to comply. In fact, I just woke up from a small nap and I feel delicious. Try it. You’ll never go back. (Just don’t nap TOO long or you’ll hate yourself at 11pm for feeling like frantically rearranging your entire closet and then downloading Breaking Dawn Part 2 and not going to bed until 2am).
Can you function well without a lot of sleep? What are your coping mechanisms for feeling rested (or rested enough) now that you’re a parent? How early are you willing to go to bed? Are you going to try “pre-sleeping” or are you going to try “pre-sleeping”?! xox