Going to The Sippy Cups, Part I (Trying to Make Nap Time Happen)
The Pirates have asked us a few times to accompany them to see The Sippy Cups (more info here). While a couple of hours in a club filled with children bouncing up and down to modified versions of the their parents’ nostalgia tunes would be anybody’s idea of a little slice of heaven, we were always a bit sceptical. Plus, the timing was never right. We always had another engagement or were too pooped or Baby Dog’s nap was happening at the same time as the show, or whatever. It’s hard to plan things when a small child figures into the equation. When they asked us a couple of weeks ago if we wanted to join them for the band’s CD release party, though, we couldn’t refuse; we had a long string of missed plans with the Pirates and were quite curious to hear what a baby-friendly arrangement of a Ramones song sounds like.
The biggest trick, of course, was the nap schedule. The party was at 3:30 in San Francisco, which meant we’d have to leave by about 2:30 to have a fighting chance at finding parking in time to get tickets before they sold out. Since Baby Dog generally takes a two-hour midday nap and generally goes down anywhere from 11:30 a.m. to 1 p.m., the timing could be kind of tight. Things looked promising at morning snacktime. Mama Dog was off to yoga and I was a little late thinking of snack time, putting the girl in her high chair around 10:30 or so. By the time she was done with her yogurt and raisins, she was rubbing her eyes and saying “Sleepy? Nap? Tired?” Ordinarily, I’d say, “No, it’s not even eleven, you can’t be tired yet,” but instead I seized the opportunity. “You want to go night-night?” I asked. “Night-night,” Baby Dog agreed. I put her in her crib, and of course she started to cry and complain. “How about a night-night stroll?” I asked. “Night-night,” she agreed.
We went out for a neighbourhood stroll, Baby Dog wrapped up in quilts under the foreboding clouds. She seemed sleepy enough that she’d be zonked out before I went two blocks. That proved to be an unreliable indicator. Two blocks later, she was kicking her feet up, knocking the blanket down under the stroller wheels, and exclaiming at the presence of a tree. “Tree!” The quick “night-night” stroll ended up lasting close to an hour and ending fruitlessly. She kept growing quiet, apparently zoning out, only to suddenly spring back to complete wakefulness. I remember during one of those quiet periods seeing a man with a poodle at the corner, walking towards us. I thought, “Okay, if we pass this dog and she doesn’t say anything, I’ll know she’s really asleep.” As we neared the dog, all was still and silent. Not a peep. Not a peep. Dog just three concrete squares away, and not a peep. The dog was almost in front of us, and not a peep. That’s it! She must be asleep! She must have nodded off when we – “Doggy!” she squealed, practically bouncing herself out of the stroller, flipping the hood back up for a better look.
Around noon I gave up and resolved to let her cry herself to sleep if necessary. We went home, I sang her a couple of songs, and put her to bed with a book. While she chattered and fussed a little, I went into the kitchen to put dishes away. Often, the sound of my clanging about seems to soothe her to sleep. When I was done, the house was quiet. I tiptoed over to take a peek into her room. I cracked the door silently, and peered in. She was huddled up in the far corner of the crib. I couldn’t see if she was asleep or not…then her head moved and her eyes popped open. She grinned at me. “Daddy!” she said. “Ba-poo!” “Ba-poo” is her word for “diaper,” and when she says it aloud it’s often cause for worry. Sure enough, I could smell what she’d been up to.
I changed her and sang to her a little more and put her back to bed. We were headed towards our third hour of “going to bed” time, which is a gyp of a day for both of us, but what’re you gonna do? I was starting to get really hungry, so I let her chatter to herself some more while I nuked myself some grub. Around that time, Mama Dog got home from yoga, and when we checked in on Baby Dog she was finally asleep. It was about 12:30. Since Baby Dog still had to eat lunch before we left, things looked pretty iffy. We agreed that if she was up by 2, we could do it but if she wasn’t, we couldn’t.
The biggest trick, of course, was the nap schedule. The party was at 3:30 in San Francisco, which meant we’d have to leave by about 2:30 to have a fighting chance at finding parking in time to get tickets before they sold out. Since Baby Dog generally takes a two-hour midday nap and generally goes down anywhere from 11:30 a.m. to 1 p.m., the timing could be kind of tight. Things looked promising at morning snacktime. Mama Dog was off to yoga and I was a little late thinking of snack time, putting the girl in her high chair around 10:30 or so. By the time she was done with her yogurt and raisins, she was rubbing her eyes and saying “Sleepy? Nap? Tired?” Ordinarily, I’d say, “No, it’s not even eleven, you can’t be tired yet,” but instead I seized the opportunity. “You want to go night-night?” I asked. “Night-night,” Baby Dog agreed. I put her in her crib, and of course she started to cry and complain. “How about a night-night stroll?” I asked. “Night-night,” she agreed.
We went out for a neighbourhood stroll, Baby Dog wrapped up in quilts under the foreboding clouds. She seemed sleepy enough that she’d be zonked out before I went two blocks. That proved to be an unreliable indicator. Two blocks later, she was kicking her feet up, knocking the blanket down under the stroller wheels, and exclaiming at the presence of a tree. “Tree!” The quick “night-night” stroll ended up lasting close to an hour and ending fruitlessly. She kept growing quiet, apparently zoning out, only to suddenly spring back to complete wakefulness. I remember during one of those quiet periods seeing a man with a poodle at the corner, walking towards us. I thought, “Okay, if we pass this dog and she doesn’t say anything, I’ll know she’s really asleep.” As we neared the dog, all was still and silent. Not a peep. Not a peep. Dog just three concrete squares away, and not a peep. The dog was almost in front of us, and not a peep. That’s it! She must be asleep! She must have nodded off when we – “Doggy!” she squealed, practically bouncing herself out of the stroller, flipping the hood back up for a better look.
Around noon I gave up and resolved to let her cry herself to sleep if necessary. We went home, I sang her a couple of songs, and put her to bed with a book. While she chattered and fussed a little, I went into the kitchen to put dishes away. Often, the sound of my clanging about seems to soothe her to sleep. When I was done, the house was quiet. I tiptoed over to take a peek into her room. I cracked the door silently, and peered in. She was huddled up in the far corner of the crib. I couldn’t see if she was asleep or not…then her head moved and her eyes popped open. She grinned at me. “Daddy!” she said. “Ba-poo!” “Ba-poo” is her word for “diaper,” and when she says it aloud it’s often cause for worry. Sure enough, I could smell what she’d been up to.
I changed her and sang to her a little more and put her back to bed. We were headed towards our third hour of “going to bed” time, which is a gyp of a day for both of us, but what’re you gonna do? I was starting to get really hungry, so I let her chatter to herself some more while I nuked myself some grub. Around that time, Mama Dog got home from yoga, and when we checked in on Baby Dog she was finally asleep. It was about 12:30. Since Baby Dog still had to eat lunch before we left, things looked pretty iffy. We agreed that if she was up by 2, we could do it but if she wasn’t, we couldn’t.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 12:56 PM
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