November 19, 2011 by themommahen
It’s a nightly occurrence, part of our ritual. Hatchling #3 goes to bed between 6:30 and 7. I soothe him to sleep and put him in his crib. Thirty minutes after I lay him down, he wakes up crying, wondering where I’ve gone because after all, I was there when he fell asleep, and it’s rude to just slink out.
So I go upstairs, pick him up, soothe him back to sleep, and place him back in his crib by doing what I call the downward baby yoga pose, which you achieve by standing on your tiptoes, aligning your hips with the top of the rail, and gently fold yourself in half to g e n t l y touch your arms to the mattress and slide them out from under sleeping baby, then (exhale) using your core, power your upper body up, rolling vertebra by vertebra, then opening the heart and returning to standing baby salutation pose.
Tonight I was on my third trip upstairs when his cries quieted and I heard the music from the Fisher Price Ocean Wonders lullaby machine (after almost six years, that music is burned into my brain). Since he was quiet I decided to take a few extra minutes to get the couple things done I needed to call it a night.
After about five minutes, I finished and went upstairs to find the little guy sitting up, looking at his baby jukebox, swaying to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. And then I realized he was asleep. Sitting up. Swaying. So I gently, gently entered my down baby pose, shifted him to lay him down, and just as I almost got him down, my head two inches from his, his eyes popped open. He looked around, as if he was trying to figure out what happened, and then he gave me what sounded like an embarrassed giggle. “Nah, I’m not sleeping, just messing with ya. Let’s do some more yoga!”
Exhale, roll up, repeat.