Tonight is the shortest night of the year, made even shorter by sharing a bed with a breastfeeding baby. To make the situation even more unstable, my two year old is currently fighting his nap with every tactic available to his toddler's imagination. Since my writing time comes when the kids are sleeping, this seems an ironic time to try to start something as daunting as a blog.
Yet, here I am. At least the baby is asleep. (Thank you, little BB.) Having resolved to write, I will try to do so while BJ sings the alphabet song, backwards, yet again (thank you, They Might Be Giants).
It seems a more authentic alternative to repeatedly telling him, "It's time for sleep, sweetie," through clenched teeth. Besides, my other option right now is useless longing for the time, energy, and space to make some sort of recognition of today's Midsummer magic. In truth, the longing will be there anyway. No point mulling over it too much.
So. Either he will nap, or he will not. Kids and sleep are like horses and water -- you can't make it happen. Though, with my son, it often feels more like oil and water. They just don't mix. When he fights his nap like this, he'll either be a cranky mess for the rest of the day and have trouble falling asleep at bedtime as well, or he will crash right after dinner and be up with the dawn.
A wise parent once told me you either get good sleepers or good eaters with your kids. Given how much BB is nursing, and how much BJ can pack away at a meal, the conclusion is obvious.
It's going to be another long (short) night.