Rest Hiatus

Or: Finding a way to be thankful for a not-so sleepy toddler.

Every day at noontime I do what I know how to do.

I fill my son's belly with wholesome food -- peanut butter and jam on whole wheat bread, sliced cheddar with cubed turkey or yogurt and fruit. I mop his face and freshen his pants, then we say "see you after rest time" to his brother and sister as we ascend the staircase.

The house is always quiet and still during the space between the clatter, screech of the morning trash trucks and the afternoon groan, shush of the school buses.

There is rare solitude in that sliver of our day spent together and I've come to require it.

So I pull my littlest one's frame into my lap and curl his softest blanket over our legs and we read -- always three books -- relaxing just a little more with each turn of the page; each rise and fall of the rocking chair.

We ride these gentle waves until the final page of our last book.

Then I scoop him into my arms and he rests his soft cheek on my knobby shoulder and I sing.

Twinkle Twinkle, Baa Baa Black Sheep and ABCD ...

I kiss him and settle him into his crib.

Every single day. Just like that.

I pull his door closed and check on my oldest children in their respective quiet spaces and I think about how I'll use this time. I might rest or have a proper lunch in silence, then I'll read to the big kids or tie up the loose ends of our school day. Or I'll write.

However I choose to use it, that time is precious and it's the very little bit that I can call my own during the day. I am so grateful to have it.

***

Only recently, my littlest one isn't napping. No matter how effective the routine seems to be in getting him to doze, as soon as I leave his room, he is up and lively and chattering. This goes on for nearly two hours some days, until I give in and retrieve him.

"Rest all done," he gleefully reports. "Yay!"

Then we grab some trucks and resume our day together.

This isn't supposed to be happening. He's not even 2 yet and most children nap well into their third year and sometimes their fourth. But it is happening, so I'm embracing it.

And I pray.

I pray that my desire for a predictable rhythm to our days will fade a bit.

I pray that I will find some moments for peace and for personal growth or that somehow I won't need them so desperately.

I pray for a new way to find time to write.

I pray that in spite of his early abandonment of napping, that my son will continue to grow.

I pray that I will grow, too, into an abundantly more patient mother.

And I thank the Lord that this new no-nap development has forced me to finally accept that in no way is my youngest child a statistical average -- that he is remarkable and for that I am thankful, too.

This month the Bigger Picture blogs are offering up weekly servings of thankfulness. For more, visit Lenae today and add your link, too.