Gone are the days when Micah slept deeply. ()
It used to be that of an afternoon, he would fall asleep in Julie's arms and Julie would then place him into his swing. He would rock away into whatever dreams babies have.
Now when he lies down in his swing, his eyes pop open and he's ready to have a conversation. On Wednesday, he took the opportunity to experiment with his vocal range, squealing into the upper octaves and smiling broadly whenever I glanced over at him from my desk.
It's not that my wife and I don't love our son dearly. It's just that we'd like to occasionally, you know, cross something off our personal or professional checklists. Or shut our eyes for a spell.
These days, Micah's naps last 45 minutes or fewer. That makes planning imperative: If Julie has an agenda for that day—and she always does—she's got a narrow window to do it in.
His sleep at night seems similarly short-lived.
To compensate, we've agreed to simply start going to bed at night whenever the baby does. If 7:30 rolls around and the baby is cranky?
Good night, honey. See you in the morning.
Or 5:30 in the afternoon?
Well, dear, at least we'll be rested in the morning.
One of these days, I think to myself, we'll make time to hang out, maybe have dinner together.
Then my phone rings.
"Noon and he's already snoozing? Thanks for the update, dear. I'm searching for a bench to lie down on.
Yes, I'll get some sleep now. I don't want to be cranky for my 4 p.m."
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