Quinn's Blog: Sleeping trouble

September 19, 2002

Sleeping trouble

Oh, it's hard to be Quinn Lester!

After Gymboree today, then lunch with some of the mommies and babies, Quinn was ripe for a nap. She rubbed her eyes the whole way home and I had to sing my loudest to keep her awake. But as soon as I changed her diaper and plopped her in her crib, she popped right up with a big grin on her face.

"Great," I told her, lying her back down. "You're a big sitting-up bunny! But now you're going night-night. Just a little napper, goofus." I covered her up, stuck the pacifier in her mouth, and she pulled the blanket over her head and appeared to go to sleep.

A few minutes later, I heard her talking. I went in and she was sitting up, smiling at me. As I approached the crib she raised her arms, like I was just going to pluck her up and forget the whole nap thing.

"Night night. Little napper," I told her, putting her back under her cover and putting the pacifier in her mouth. Again, she was still.

Not even a minute later, I heard more chatter coming from her room.

She was over at the foot of her crib, addressing her blue bunny from Uncle Dennis. Chewing on its ear. Lifting her arms to be removed from the crib.

"Night night. Little napper." I flopped her back down and went through the routine.

A few minutes later, I decided that things were a little bit too quiet next door, so I poked my head in her room. This time she was on her hands and knees up at the head of the crib, scratching at the wallpaper. She'd undone the bumper pad ties in order to get to the wall. She was so busy at her work that I surprised her when I laid her back down.

"Night night. Little napper."

I was certain she'd fallen asleep, because I didn't hear from her again for another ten minutes. But soon enough, there was moaning from the next room. I went in and immediately smelled what she'd been up to. After a quick diaper change, I put her--with a very surprised and slightly disgusted look on her face--back in the crib. This time I vowed to leave her in there until she passed out.

After a bit she began to whine. And cry. And moan. And chant. "Mama! Maaamaaa! Mom! Mom! Ma maaaaa!" I left her in there until 45 minutes had passed since the start of this whole "nap." I had to start dinner downstairs, and I couldn't just let her scream in her crib any longer.

When I went in the final time, she was clinging to the crib bars like she was in a prison cell. "MA MAH!" she told me angrily, raising her arms to be set free. So I picked her up, carried her across the hall to our room, put her in our bed, and flopped down beside her.

She was asleep in about 45 seconds. A sleep so deep that she wasn't even moving. She was dead to the world.

Stinker.

---------

I got a last-minute appointment tonight for a haircut that I needed desperately. Andy had to go to class, and my sister Julie and my cousin Cathy weren't home, so I called my mom. She agreed to come over at 6:30 so I could go.

I left the house at 6:35 with Quinn playing happily on the floor, fresh out of her high chair where she'd greatly enjoyed eating the parmesean chicken and buttered noodles we'd had for dinner. Full. Happy. With Grandma, probably the person she knows the best besides Andy and I.

When I arrived home at 7:30, the TV was off in the family room and it was silent. Did my mom put her to bed, I wondered? What was going on? Then I saw them on the couch. My mom was cradling Quinn in her lap, and Quinn was red-eyed and tearstained. Her arms immediately shot out when she saw me and she began to moan "Maaamaaa! Maaamaaa!"

"Oh god," I said.

"She has been screaming," my mom said calmly, "since you walked out the door."

I picked Quinn up off her lap, and she smiled brightly at me. Then she turned and smiled at my mom.

"You," my mom said to her, "are a bad girl."

Quinn began to babble then, telling her side of the story. She babbled for so long that I sat her on my lap so she could finish comfortably.

"Aaaahhhh la la lallllaa. Ahhhh babababa. Ahhhhhh. Mmmmmmmaaah."

"I don't care," my mom told her when she finally finished. "You are bad."

Quinn looked at her blankly.

"For God's sake," I told her. "Can't mama get a freaking haircut??"

Then she laid her head on my shoulder and patted my back.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

And she was forgiven for everything.

Posted by Amy at September 19, 2002 12:26 PM

Comments

Amy, you tell the most wonderful stories! :) Silly bunny! Got her momma wrapped around her finger-- just where she should be! ;)

Posted by: Carmen at September 19, 2002 1:01 AM

Poor Bunny!! Poor Mama!! And the separation anxiety is full-force ;).

Posted by: Kristin at September 19, 2002 11:35 AM

I love your child.When, oh when, will I see her again??

Posted by: Erin at September 19, 2002 12:58 PM

Good! now i know that i am not the only babysitter who Quinn screams bloddy murder with!

Posted by: Maureen at September 20, 2002 11:33 AM

Andy and Amy, I just have to tell you: I love reading your weblog. When one of my coworkers comes over to tell stories of his baby, I tell him about yours. :)There was a little girl at church that went through a long phase where she screamed when anyone held her except her mother. (I felt honored that she'd always cheer up a bit when she saw me.) She scream bloody murder when she was away from her mother, even if she was with her father or grandmother. ("What's the matter with you, Kayla? Grandma's got you! How can you be sad?") It finally passed (she's five now), but it sure was annoying for her family for awhile. I hope Quinn's not hitting a similar phase.Enjoy it, though. In 13 years she won't want to be seen in public with you. :) [That, too, is just a phase...]

Posted by: J. David at September 27, 2002 10:30 AM