Meet Your New Boss. He's Angry.

In the very moment that I am writing this, my son is going on his third hour of a nap. I should be joyful, triumphant, rejoicing. Some of our firm, stick-to-it-ness around recent nap and bedtime issues seems to be paying off. However, I cannot deny a creeping worry. Surely, something must be wrong. Is he coming down with something (again)? He must be getting sick. We just aren’t this lucky to have this long of a nap.

I have a friend whose children both take three hour naps reliably. They also wake in the morning about 9:00 am. These parents never conducted cry-it-out. These parents were sleeping through the night at about 9 weeks with their babies. There are names for babies like these. They are even referenced in all sorts of books about taking care of babies. They are called “Angel Babies.”

Ahhh, the angel baby. I have heard that these exist.

My niece was an “angel baby.” When my brother heard of our struggles with reflux and colic and allergy and crying (oh man, the CRYING), he was like, “Geez, I don’t hardly remember at all having to go and give my daughter a bottle in the middle of the night, maybe once.”

My first week with my son, I called my best friend who had two boys. She was like, “Gosh, Kristy, I don’t remember my son crying really very much, unless he was hungry.”

Do these people have memory problems, or do babies like this actually exist?

Of course, everyone thinks they’re going to have an angel baby as well. Soon after I gave birth, I will never forget my husband standing in our hospital room with our son, and he said (I shit you not), “We are not going to be those ‘ON-DEMAND’ parents. Our child will be on a SCHEDULE.” “Yes,” I affirmed, “A schedule.”

The crying started that night. I knew something was wrong. I had a creeping worry that perhaps we had not had an “angel baby.” From that point on, we darkly realized that not only were we on-demand parents, but a new boss had entered our house, and he was very angry.

Well, we SURVIVED with only mild residual post-traumatic stress. My son is now two-years old, and I’m here to write about it! Last night, my husband, son, and I were at a friend’s house. One of our friends had her 2 month old there. When we left, my husband said, “That baby was so QUIET.” I just chuckled because, to us, a quiet baby is quite an unnatural thing.

My husband is right now, as I type, waking our son from his now too-long nap. Guess what? My son is smiling. He is happy. He had great sleep. We are awesome parents. Nothing is wrong. (“It’s all going to be alright.”) I love my angel boy.