Babies do funny things to your sense of time. Getting up repeatedly at night seems to make the days shorter, rather than longer – a normal period of sleep punctuates life much more definitely, and without it the days run together in a manner quite confusing to memory.
Finn’s unpredictable napping habits mean any time he drifts off I go into high gear, running through chores in order of urgency (Still sleeping? Washing up! Still sleeping? Bolt to the laundry! Still sleeping? Lunch! etc). This makes me both more efficient and more tense, and sometimes I have to consciously relax and remind myself that the world is not going to end if the next task isn’t completed right now.
Before Finn was born I imagined I was going to write for an hour or so each day during his morning nap, reserving the afternoon nap period for chores. Quelle naîf, non? In order to be both fed and dressed I’ve been forced to prioritise the more mundane tasks of life. I carve out a little time after dinner for my blogging and e-mailing, when he sleeps for his longest period. Talking to other mums reveals very few babies match the napping schedule cheerfully presented in The Books (even the kind, sympathetic, unbossy ones), and attempting to alter their internal clocks (if so irregular a mechanism deserves the name) often doesn’t even work in the short term.
Looking back over the past few months, I realise Finn is gradually having more long naps than short ones, and more mornings and afternoons with naps than without them. My theory is that he’s learning to sleep—when, and for how long; how to fall asleep and how to stay asleep—and thus every long sleep period is something to appreciate, another step on the road to more settled hours. I don’t think it’s something that can be forced—I’ve certainly never figured out how to force myself to fall asleep (if only!), so I’m not sure how you’d do that to someone else—so I hope working with his rhythms rather than against them will work out in the end.
