As a parent, I find myself spending a considerable amount of my 2-year-old son’s naptime lying next to him. It’s not a requirement, but it’s become our routine. If I don’t join him, his nap tends to be shorter, and the result is usually a cranky little boy. So, when he stirs, I find myself at his side, scrolling through social media, jotting down thoughts (thank goodness for my phone’s Notes app), or just closing my eyes for a moment.
After eight and a half years of parenting, my approach has shifted. I no longer overthink my parenting choices as I did when I had my first child. My style leans toward attachment parenting, but it all feels like second nature now. I’ve learned to go with the flow, and if something isn’t working, I’m generally too exhausted to analyze it.
This afternoon, I reflected on how many parents face different circumstances. Some simply can’t spend their child’s naptime this way. Working mothers, those with multiple children, or kids who find comfort in a favorite stuffed animal or blanket all have their unique challenges. I completely understand; every family has their own dynamic that works for them.
Recently, my older son’s school had a Pajama Day, where students were encouraged to wear pajamas and bring a favorite stuffed animal. It was amusing to hear my son joke, “I guess I’d have to bring you to school that day, Mom.” Although he no longer sleeps in our bed, we still share precious moments before he drifts off, often with me or his dad by his side.
My 2-year-old, however, still craves my closeness. He needs me for naps and throughout the night. I realize that this level of dependence isn’t for everyone. I sometimes forget how peculiar this might seem to outsiders because it has become my norm.
Why do I choose to stay close? Part of it is sheer convenience; responding to my little ones’ cries has always been easier than exploring alternative soothing methods. But there’s also a deeper reason: I’m holding onto their childhoods, cherishing these fleeting moments. I know that independence will come, and time has a way of moving swiftly. My older son barely wants to cuddle anymore; soon, he’ll retreat to his room, shutting the door behind him.
In contrast, my 2-year-old still enjoys snuggling. His damp hair still carries that baby scent, and I find myself reluctant to rush the process of growing up because it genuinely tugs at my heart. I recognize that this will eventually change, and I feel a sense of urgency to savor every moment.
So, even when my “me time” is disrupted, when I feel overwhelmed, or when I long for a night of undisturbed sleep, I still go to him. I lie in the dark, mostly waiting, occasionally resting, and often zoning out on my phone. In those moments, I’m capturing time, holding on to my child, and embracing the beauty of these early years.
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In summary, as I navigate the joys and challenges of parenting, I find solace in those quiet moments beside my son. They are fleeting, but they are also irreplaceable.
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