Shhhhhh!

A tradition has long since existed that involves quiet time for parents and children as well: the nap. The blessed nap. The God given break most moms get from cleaning up, washing up, vacuuming up, wiping up, hanging up, picking up, sweeping up, making up, timing out and settling down.

Naps became as precisely necessary for me as they'd been for Pumpkin. They also keep mommies sane so we can live yet another day with a full head of hair and some semblance of time.

I waffled for more than a year on sleep separation techniques. I remained caught in a stale mate, debating whether to put Pumpkin to bed fully awake, letting her figure out "seepy time" or instead rock her to sleep and try sneaking stealthily out of the room, spy girl style a la Catherine Zeta Jones in "Entrapment." Very slowly, I inched the knuckles of my toes, then the ball of my foot and finally my heel step by careful step, across the room.

I mapped out and memorized every floor squeak. I banished every noisy toy to the bottom of the bin. I oiled every door creak with Pam cooking spray, literally -that's all I had on tap.

On the off chance I'd hit a noisy sector of the nursery during my exit, I would freeze and peek back to make sure Pumpkin's eyes remained shut.

To my demise, the rocking and sneaking quickly evolved into rocking and sleeping for Pumpkin and I. I entered the rocking chair cocoon as Mommy and emerged as Quasimodo, trying to re-align my spine during dinner, hair awry. I didn't mind awaking to a sleepy headed Pumpkin, but the physical toll started catching up with me. No matter how badly it hurt for the rest of the day though, I still fell asleep with her again at nighttime.

On the times I could summon my inner chakra to fight off falling asleep and manage to sneak out, I had to rely on the Household Nap Time Rules that served me since Pumpkin's arrival in order to prolong happy hour:

-No yelling
-Almost no talking
-No thinking aloud
-Doors must not shut, only close with careful, cautious attention
-No "Ring" or "Vibrate Mode" allowed
-No running household appliances, except the frig
-No running or walking, period, only tip-toeing allowed
-No using the bathroom by baby's room
-Don't even flush in another bathroom if "seepy time" begins or wake-up time nears
-Absolutely no music
-Closed captions only on TV
-No sex because I don't even want to think about doing this ever again until I'm so far removed from said developmental stage, I can hardly remember the strife

Unfortunately, but typically, naps begin to decrease, one by one by one into the golden Tuscan sunrise. Almost without notice, Pumpkin started to play in her bed the entire length of her nap time creating the Sans Nap stage. This part of baby growing up goes against every grain of motherhood and its joys.

Now that the days have gotten longer, my need for an extra cup of caffeine and live-in maid becomes more desperate. I don't have more time to finally fold the permanently wrinkled laundry while catching up on last night's Grey's Anatomy. I've also begun shutting off the radio instead of cranking up my favorite tunes and singing along when I run errands because a little silence sounds nicer.

My hope for the bags under my eyes to slowly fade has diminished now that naps have nearly gone. Eventually, I devised a solution and thought it fitting to add Botox to Santa's list this year. Something's gotta get tightened up soon, and we all know Palmer's Cocoa Butter lotion for stretchmarks is a joke. If only I could borrow God's giant eraser...