We’ve been in our new house for about two weeks now. Though
our efforts to unpack and settle in were slightly derailed by the snow storm,
boxes are slowly disappearing and things are starting to fall into place. We
received three separate shipments over the course of a week, including a load
of our stuff that had been in long term storage since we packed out of our
townhouse in Florida. We hadn’t see the stuff in six years, so there were some
surprises, including a new queen mattress and box spring we didn’t even know we
owned and a kitchen table and chairs which we actually needed for our new house.
Also, much to Elise’s joy/fright/dilemma were two boxes of my old LPs, but she
kindly embraced them and put them on center stage in our new home and even bought
me a cool, new record player for our tenth wedding anniversary to listen to
them on.
We took a break from the unpacking to get out and about a
little bit. We were still feeling the lingering effects of cabin fever, too, so
on Saturday we made a chilly trip to the farmer’s market where Elise and I
sampled a Turkish flatbread stuffed with spinach and cheese reminiscent of
Sitti’s what we called at the time ‘veggie patties’. I wasn’t a big fan then,
but these were delicious (and warm!). Point won for developing palates.
On Sunday, we drove to Eastern Market in DC. The depth of
the market was a little disappointing. There were a few vendors at the flea
market outside, but we didn’t see the breadth of furniture or other offerings
Elise recalled being when we had visited before. The kids did spend some time ogling
the pig parts at the butcher.
For the past eight years, our days have been clearly delineated
into a ‘before nap’ part of the day and a ‘post nap’ part of the day. Most
everyone else calls it ‘morning’ and ‘afternoon’, but to Elise and I, the
all-important nap is what defined each and every day. Our entire day was planned
around the kids napping. If they missed nap, or slept in the car, more likely
than not, they would be complete raving lunatics by five o’clock in the afternoon.
When Sam missed nap, he literally was like a patient in an insane asylum; you
even had to watch what you said around him, lest you send him into a fit of
rage or panic. It was like walking on egg shells. Some might have thought us a
little bit obsessive about protecting the sacred nap time, but, to us, it was
the sun around which all other parenting revolved. It gave us a crucial respite
in busy days. Many days, we were just trying to make it to nap, doing whatever
we could to wear the kids down enough so they would sleep, and we could enjoy a
few precious minutes of quiet. On long morning drives, we would will the
children not to fall asleep in the
car, because we knew if they did, they wouldn’t take a nap when we got home,
and we’d be screwed.
But, alas, Sam is eight, and our napping days may soon be a
thing of the past, though Clementine still naps regularly. Heck, all three kids
will if pressed hard enough. Pete has long fought naps the hardest. In India, I
used to lay with him every Saturday afternoon to force him to go to sleep (most
Saturday mornings, I had gone for a long run, so I needed the nap as much if
not more than they did).
Though we will miss the napping days dearly, it is nice to
go out for the day and not necessarily have to rush down to put a baby down for
a nap. Now, we can plan activities that span across the nap, bridging and
unifying the ‘before nap’ part of the day and a ‘post nap’ part of the day.
Now, when planning our day, we can do it like most people…plan the entire day
and not just two halves of it.
So, with this in mind, we drove from Eastern Market to the
Mall. On a whim, we decided to go the National Gallery of Art to see a
photography exhibit that I had been wanting to show Elise. Our kids were some
of the few there. I don’t know if the appreciated all the art they saw. They
were mostly well behaved, and I do know they got a kick out of all the tizus on
the Greco-Roman statues.
On the walk back to the car, Elise and I were following Sam,
Pete, and Clementine as they weaved and wrested their way down the Washington
Mall. Another family had stopped several feet ahead of us. The mother was
bending down to console her daughter in the stroller who was visibly very distraught,
though it was clear the mother didn’t know why. Before either Elise or I had
any idea what was happening, Sam picked up a blue plastic sand shovel at this
his feet and sprinted toward the girl and her mother. He returned the shovel to
the girl, and she immediately stopped crying. The mother thanked him. Sam
smiled and ran back to us.
I was beyond impressed. Before I could even figure out what
was going on, Sam had spotted a problem and—with cat-like reflexes—fixed it. His
instinct was like steel. He was like Superman. Seriously.
We let him skip nap when we got home.
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