Sleepless in New York

I love nap time. Beautiful, wonderful nap time. The apartment is silent, except for maybe a little bit of music, and there are no objects (stuffed animals, pieces of food, toasters, etc.) flying through the air. This is the time when the world is still, the baby monitor is on, and the dad can feel like his own person again. This is also the time when I sit down and get serious about the blogs, crafting a lot of bad jokes for them.

Alas, a threat to my sanity has been building. Kyle has turned 13, and like the weather in the northeast, he has suddenly changed. Granted, we're talking about 13 months here, but he's definitely showing the traits of a teenager. He's rebellious. Though he's been working on giving kisses, he's no longer giving them to Jennifer on her way out the door. When I try to rock him, he fights any effort of mine to put his head down on my chest - he now wants to face forward. He now crawls into parts of the apartment that have long been off limits, looking back to see how long he can get away with it. He has refused any solid foods we've tried to give him, looking at us with an expression on his face that reads "this is what I say to your food" as he flicks it onto the floor. He has stopped posing for pictures. He's embarrassed to be near me, and wants me to stop the stroller several yards away from the swing set so none of his friends could see me as he crawls to meet them. Worst of all, he no longer wants to take naps.

For nearly a few weeks now, he's been crying every time I put him in the crib for his morning and afternoon snooze sessions. We had been following a routine that has worked for a few months, but for some reason he no longer likes it. It's not that he's not tired - believe me, he's tired. He rubs his eyes. His eyelids are droopy. He nods off mid-sentence. Yet, as I try to slowly lower him down to his bed, he feels tug of gravity, and that sets off the alarms. He wrestles to a sitting-up position, wrinkles his face and drops his lower lip, and shatters the windows with his cries as his face turns Elmo red. I try to calm him down but with no luck. Sometimes, if I leave him alone, he pauses for a second, realizes that he is, in fact, tired, forgets what the fuss was all about, and then falls asleep. Most times, though, it's war. It's a battle between me wanting him to go to sleep, his body wanting him to go to sleep, and his mouth saying "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" (or, in other words, "I don't want to go to sleep"). At least once a day I still win, but a lot of times his mouth takes the victory, and after about an hour of trying, I give up on the effort, and Kyle and I go for a walk outside. The crying ends, and suddenly Kyle's back to being his happy, talkative self, smiling at bus drivers and flirting with old ladies.

Now, don't get me wrong- I'm nowhere near my wit's end yet. As I've said before, I worked in news, so I've experienced a lot worse. It's just something I have to get used to. At some point, I'm sure he'll push me to the brink of insanity, but considering that I spend much of my day snacking on his food and speaking in baby talk, I may be already there without realizing it. I know this is just a phase. I'm sure he'll eventually back down, since I'm really the boss, and - oh no - I think I hear him now. He sounds angry. I hope I didn't do something wrong. Dear me. I gotta go.

Here's a new photo album:

Kyle's 12th & 13th Months

Enjoy... and have a great month!