The sweet sound of silence.

My baby is asleep. He has been asleep for nearly two hours, and this morning he slept for an hour and a half. This has been going on for a few days now. After weeks and weeks of trying desperately to get him to fall asleep for naps--and stay asleep for longer than 40 minutes--I think we may have done it. I don't want to hold my breath, but it looks like we may have a real Nap Time going on here.

I never wanted to be the type who ran home when it was Nap Time. I never wanted to be the crazy woman who adhered vigorously to a regimented schedule and ran her home like a military base. I scoffed at this woman. I was better than this woman.

Oh, the hubris!

For if this is indeed true--if we have finally achieved this glorious thing--then I shall become That Mother. I shall be rigid--nay, religious!--about Nap Time. It shall be a sacred space, guarded with a passion bordering on fundamentalist zeal. It shall be a place of peace for Mommy, and cursed be he who endeavors to disturb it. Cursed, I say! For to my son, it is merely Nap Time, but to me, it is Nirvana.

And ye who have no children can button thine lips.