I hate the word playdate. It fits in the same category as minivans, mom jeans and dads who wear shorts with knee socks. Before kids I swore I would never use it. It’s hard not to when all the other parents are saying “Let’s plan a playdate!”
Brother B had an extended playdate yesterday with the cute little guy from across the street. After 4 hours, 5 timeouts, 2 changes of clothes and 3 bruises the two boys were sharing and having fun. Everything was great for two and a half minutes. Then the dad came and the playdate was over.
It’s pretty simple. The night your baby finally sleeps through the night a few different scenarios will play out:
1. Your older child will begin co-sleeping, even though he or she has always slept (relatively) soundly in his or her own bed.
2. Your husband will start snoring, louder than he ever has before.
3. Both of the above.
Children wake up early. My children wake up earlier. 5:00 is an average day, 6:00 is pretty darn good and 7:00 is very, very rare. We never set an alarm. Booking a dentist appointment the other day, I figured we could take the earliest appointment (7:45) and be there with time to spare. Our day usually feels half over by 9:30 so this should be no problem. Naturally, this is the day that everyone sleeps in until 7:00. You think I’d learn.
I’ve learned this the HARD way. My parents were booked weeks in advance to come and stay with the kiddies for a night while D and I went away (somewhere, anywhere!). I looked forward to that night like you would not believe. Little A was around 8 months old, had stopped nursing and was still up in the night, about a million times. Brother B was still yelling out at least once in the middle of the night, waking up Little A again. A real gong show. We were in the trenches of not-sleeping-baby, not-sleeping-preschooler and not-sleeping-parents. I lived for that night away. Lo and behold, as the day approaches, Grandma gets sick. Murphy’s Law. Anyone else?