Is there a such this as quiet time? Will there ever be a quiet time?
Naps are a big deal in my house. A requirement even. It is the only time of day where I can get anything remotely productive done. Empty the dishwasher with a toddler around? Nope, isn’t going to happen. Fold laundry? Nope, not unless I want to have to fold it twice. You get the point. So, I look forward to 1pm everyday when my two youngest go into their rooms for nap and quiet time.
Right around her 3rd birthday, Fara, decided that she was done with naps altogether. Cold turkey. I actually welcomed the change having noticed that the longer she napped during the day, the later bedtime was at night. By late, I mean that if she took a 1.5 hour nap, she wasn’t going to sleep until 10pm or later. So, no naps meant normal bedtimes and I was all about that. This is where we introduced ‘quiet time.’ And while I appreciate the early bedtime, I appreciate nothing about Fara’s take on quiet time. Nothing.
What is quiet time, you may ask? Well, it is supposed to be a time when my 3 year old hangs in her room, plays with her toys, reads books, has some time on her tablet, rests…quiet time. Time when she isn’t asking me 8000 questions, demanding drinks or snacks, or climbing on things she isn’t supposed to. Quiet time. Well as they say, the best laid plans…
Quiet time on a good day
As it turns out, Fara’s take on quiet time is much different than what I had dreamed. It’s chaos, pure and simple. Now, I have to give her credit, the first 15 minutes are clutch. She is quiet, lays on her bed, rests, follows my dream in sequence. But then minute 16 hits and all hell breaks loose. She starts calling my name, well not calling my name, she starts screaming my name. She isn’t upset, or hurt or sad, she just wants my attention. She starts changing outfits, pulling things out of her closet and trying on shoes, head bands and tights. Nothing is cleaned up. Each piece of clothing is discarded on the floor, making a trail to whichever part of her room is the next victim. Then she ‘read’s’ her books. Again, part of the dream sequence but definitely not the execution I wished for. Some end up thrown into the hallway, others ripped, some missing covers. Add in a lot more screaming for MOM, asking to use the potty, which is a request she knows I can’t refuse and some jumping on the bed and you have Fara’s take on quiet time. Sometimes I go to check on her after ignoring some of the singing and general yelling and she is no where to be found. She’s under her bed, or literally locked in her closet. She unmakes her bed, takes all of the clothes out of her drawers, and may or may not F with her curtains…it just depends on the day. She will eventually unplug her monitor, so I get to hear a sweet, dull beeping on my end. One final little throat punch. Thanks, friend.
Now, Fara is 3. Can I expect her to sit in her room quietly for 1.5 hours? Apparently not. So we modified the dream, compromised and found something that more or less works for us both. Her monitor is two-way, so when she calls for me we can chat if she needs to, or I can take her to the bathroom. We do one hour quiet time, instead of 1.5 and that seems to be our sweet spot on most days. Her room still legitimately looks like a bomb went off (a little 3 year old bomb with cotton blond hair and blue eyes) after the hour is up and her definition of ‘quiet’ is still unclear but pick your battles, right?! She looks forward to quiet time now, she is safe in her room (it is literally setup like a fortress) and enjoys the little time to herself. Phew.
And me? I look forward to my one hour. I run around like a mad woman trying to get as much done as possible within those 60 short minutes. Shower? Work out? Eat a hot meal? Dishes? Laundry? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll have enough time. I make my choices wisely and do the best I can. That’s all.
So, quiet time? It just doesn’t exist around here. The not-so-quiet-time will work just fine until she (or one of the other 2) throws me the next curve ball.
Mommy Diatribes
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