Everyday after lunch my husband puts our daughter down for her nap. It has to be my husband, because if I come within spitting distance of that room there is no chance of her sleeping. I repeat:
And she needs her sleep. She’s little. But…she’s also three. So, we know that she might drop naps soon. In fact, right now, I’ve been watching her quietly arrange all of her stuffies in her bed for the last twenty minutes.
Which brings me to quiet time. Sometimes quiet time is quiet, where you really have to press your ear to the monitor to hear snippets of the sweet songs she sings to “Bin Bin”, her most treasured friend.
Other times, “quiet” time is just about happily testing the limits of her vocal cords while tossing books to the floor and kicking at the sides of her bed.
And, you know…that’s good too.
It’s kind of a revelation, but she needs that time away from us. Time to unwind, process, reflect, and to test things out unfettered by mom and dad’s watchful eye.
It occurs to me how little quiet time I allow myself. It seems like every time there is an opportunity for it, I plug up the moment with a podcast or music. I won’t hop on the subway without a book, or go for a run without my iPod. Lately, I’ve even been brushing my teeth with a podcast playing in the background.
Don’t get me wrong, I like those things. They can be relaxing, informative, funny, but…something seems off. Doesn’t it? There’s no time to just think. Even my sorry attempt at meditation is to music. Sure, it’s plinky-plonk music, but does that count?
There’s an Anne Sexton quote I like, ‘Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.’
I don’t know. Maybe it’s time I do that.
I wonder what I’ll hear.
Like, Share and Subscribe (you know the drill).