Confession: The Laundry Piles and the Ninja Moves

Sometimes, you just have to put your kid in the middle of the living room floor to maximize everyone's afternoon nap time experience.  Or maybe that's just me-- don't judge. See, we haven't gotten the arms-to-crib transition down quiet yet. In fact, it's actually uncanny how quickly a certain Little in mid-REM can be wide awake upon touch-down to mattress. Desperate times call for desperate measures. When this momma has a truckload of To Do's (which, let's face it, is always), I go for the ole "let baby fall asleep in arms, lay down on the floor and sneak away like a ninja" maneuver. Works like a charm. There's just days when it isn't worth the fight, and I'd rather be spending that valuable time scrubbing leftovers from Fiestaware or meticulously Spray N' Washing acai stained onesies. (There was once a time when I'd probably inflict injury on myself for saying that. Oh well.) Today is one of those days.

Lucky me, my sweet husband cleaned the kitchen for me today with no coaxing at all. Score. However, the laundry pile, sticky floors and Little Man's birthday prepping is all me. So I strategically and unashamedly placed sleeping N in a pile of clean laundry in the living room. See, I was leaving it unfolded intentionally. I got about 25 minutes of glorious, uninterrupted me-time before his eyes peeled wide open, he spotted me, and frantically and hysterically bawled/crawled his way to me. His staggering and stumbling and flat out pathetic face earned him a spot in my lap, in which he promptly closed his eyes and went back to dreamland. Again, I wonder how the on-off switch flips so quickly, and why that superpower fades in adulthood. I know, I'm meriting myself a spot in the over attached over dependent camp for a move like that, but oh well. I'll take the trade the occasional evil-eye while collecting my distraught mommy-deprived son from nursery for this; being so needed by my sweaty, sweet-smelling and sleepy-eyed boy, instantly melted into my lap and being well with the world.

I know this won't last for long. Liking your mom is very uncool after a certain age, so I've heard. Being needed is so fleeting; soon he'll be too big for snuggles and too cool for kisses. At least for now he's still small enough to sit on and force into a hug. Only kidding. So about that unfolded laundry..