Sleeping Children are the Best Kind of Children

And nobody can deny it. I don't care who you are, how much you appreciate the liveliness of your child; there's nothing sweeter than when they're curled up, nestling sweetly, clothing askew.

I just went upstairs to give Vivi her stack of books. To give some back story, we're in transitional phase right now. Nap starts out with a 15-minute resting "primer" during which she has to cuddle up with some loveys and try out a nap. Every so often she actually falls asleep; otherwise, we give her books after 15 minutes are up.

Today she got in trouble during "nap primer" for getting into the toothpaste. She's become a toothpaste fiend. After almost four years of ignoring toothpaste, she is suddenly fixated. One night I came upstairs to find all seven toothbrushes, including the electrics, laid neatly in a row and festooned with way too much toothpaste for any ordinary tooth cleansing ritual. It was cute and she was already asleep, so we just cleaned up and let it slide.

Mistake. Several nights later, Richie caught Vivian making a cupful of slurry out of toothpaste and water. That time she got in trouble. We explained that toothpaste is not to play with and definitely not to eat because it has chemicals (fluoride) that can make you sick (how, exactly, would flouride o.d. present?).

So when I heard her mousing around upstairs at nap time, it was already a touchy issue. I caught her scrambling back into bed, but there was a baited toothbrush and she had fresh minty breath, so she was busted. Duly punished, she whimpered herself down from her post-punishment tizzy and got silent.

So when I went up to dole out books, she had cuddled up with Blue-blue and Flau-flau and she appeared to be sleeping a little fitfully. I am conflicted about letting her sleep because, these days, a lengthy afternoon nap often keeps her up til 10pm. But she looked so dreamy, I just sort of stood there and watched her. She rolled over, fluttering her eyes enough to register my presence. She said, "Can I have books now?" and then immediately fell back into deeper sleep.

The truth is, I'd give her anything. It's weird how I want to give my kids so much, but that requires a delicate balance. The balance requires withholding as much as it requires giving. No, you can't have a popsicle at 5:45, just before dinner. No, you may not try out your skates in the parking lot. No, you may not get behind the Christmas tree. My good judgement wears me out sometimes because all I really want to do is cuddle and share.

Our pastor (yes, the same one whose touch bubble I breached) once described the conflict of this desire for peace and the prerogative to parent something like this: "Why do I have to parent? Why can't you just go ahead and be grown up?" A lot happens on the way to adulthood. It's our (Richie's and mine) job to allow the girls to cope with age-appropriate challenges. Providing clear limits. Being warm, playful, and present enough to foster the strong bond the above rest on.

Sometimes I pretend that I'm a parent whose balance of consistency and grace I admire in order to cope with the day. It's my coping strategy just before it all falls apart.

Today the living is easy. Resting child upstairs means I can set up our family's Commander Notebook, a tool I intend to use when Richie and I are co-Commanders next year. I'll let you know how it goes.