I am impatient.
It’s actually hard to admit that, or at least it used to be. I have truly had to come to terms with that fact.
As a mother, I find that to be one of the most difficult personality attributes to deal with.
For those of you who aren’t parents, or don’t know much about children, kids move at their own pace. Especially mine.
My Madeline took a whole 30 hours to make it into this world, and she has been moving at her own pace ever since.
My Clara is a headstrong little girl, and she can put up a good, long fight if she doesn’t want to do something.
When I put my girls down for their afternoon nap, the process seems to take forever. I just change a diaper, read a book, and nurse Clara. In reality, it takes 20 minutes on a good day, but even that can feel like an eternity when on the other side of that 20 minutes is almost 2 hours of sweet baby-free time to get things done.
Recently, though, with our family in grief, the girls have taken longer and longer to put down for a nap. There are complaints about teeth pain, requests for Tylenol, pleads to leave the door open, cries to be picked up, cries to nurse again, and anything else that might delay going to sleep.
Today Clara went right to sleep after nursing, but woke up again only 25 minutes later. That, friends, is not enough of a nap for a Squishy Bean.
Two hours, lots of rocking, three times being swaddled, and endless kisses later, Clara (and Madeline) finally fell asleep.
What makes this afternoon special?
Although I tend to get impatient with naptime, and can often be short or not as gentle as I should be with my girls, today I was not.
Somehow God gave me the patience and self-control to give Clara all the love, comfort, and time she needed to settle into a nice, long nap.
That, my friends, is a victory worth celebrating.