Downtime

 My husband and I are huge fans of downtime.  Before we had children, I was a school teacher and he was some sort of chemical engineer.  We poured ourselves into our jobs during the week, and on the weekends we seriously committed ourselves to downtime.  After sleeping rather late, I used to lie in bed all day on a Saturday and read.  Occasionally I'd take a break for snacks, or to chat with my husband, or if the plot of my novel grew particularly taxing, I'd pause to take a bubble bath.  Relaxing wasn't the only thing we found lots of time for, and consequently, I found out I was pregnant after we had been married only a few months.

My first pregnancy was rather complicated with preterm labor scares starting at around 20 weeks.  I spent four months of that pregnancy on strict bed rest.  There I seriously perfected the art of downtime.  I read countless books, learned to cross stitch, watched marathon episodes of my then-favorite TV show, Trading Spaces, and carried on long telephone conversations with friends.  (Facebook was not a "thing" yet at that point.)  I cannot say that I enjoyed my four months of forced downtime, but I was prepared for it since I had put in so much practicing on the weekends previously.

Eventually after all of that bed rest and preterm labor drama, baby number one came along just days before her due date.  She was healthy and perfect.  My mother had assured me that newborn babies slept about eighteen hours a day, so I felt confident that our downtime would not be terribly disrupted.  There would still be time to read and discuss books and to lie in bed with my husband debating which flavor of Ben and Jerry's ice cream deserved the most adoration. 

As you might expect, I was in for an incredibly rude awakening.  My baby was not one of those babies who slept all day... or even all night for that matter.  In fact, after having three babies, I am pretty sure those babies are all confined to the pages of fictional novels that I no longer had time to read.  We spent the next several years feeling incredibly sleep deprived and yearning for the downtime that we used to take for granted... which is why today all of our children are very comfortable in our bed.  We learned that if we couldn't actually be lounging or sleeping, we could still hang out in bed (with our kids).

It can be easy to hang out in bed with a newborn.  If you have the right kind of baby, a stack of diapers and a pair of working boobs, the two of you can easily hang out in bed all day.  It turns out that my first born wasn't the 'right kind of baby'.  She came equipped with a relaxation detector.  Anytime she detected that her mother was trying to relax, she would start screaming.  After the first couple of months of pacing the floor, swaying, swaddling and crying out to the gods of sleep, she chilled out, and we discovered that she could be kept entertained in bed while we sang to her, played peek-a-boo games or read her stories.

As we added more children to our family, and the children grew older, our games in bed evolved.  I know so many parents who are dragged out of bed at the small hours of the morning by their young children who are eager to start the day.  We simply rejected that life.  About eight years ago I seriously considered equipping our bedroom with a small fridge so that I wouldn't have to get out of bed and go downstairs on weekend mornings for milk, juice, or snacks for the short people.  Please do not tell my children that this is not normal because they have evolved and adapted with us.  It only occurred to me recently that the 'family bed' may not be the common area for most families, but my two year old will tell you that one of her favorite places in the world is "Mommydaddybed." (Yes, that's all one word.)

So over the years we have kept our kids happy in our bed using a variety of imaginative methods.  One particular game that keeps babies and big kids giggling and happy is called, "Are You My Pillow?"  In this game an exhausted parent rests his or her head on top of a kid and pretends to sleep.  When the child begins to squirm, giggle and act completely unlike an inanimate pillow, the parent will become apparently cross and reposition the 'pillow' in an attempt to get comfortable.  It helps if the parent also inquires with exasperation, "Why is my pillow (fill in the verb)-ing??"  This game can go on for quite sometime.  If more than one child is in bed, of course, more 'pillows' are then in play.  When the first pillow proves unsatisfactory, Mom or Dad can try out the other one to see if it is less animated.  Of course it never is.

I also recall playing a lot of "Make Me a Pizza" wherein one of us would pretend to make our child(ren) into a pizza.  First we'd knead them like dough and toss them gently in the air.  Then we'd top them with invisible tomato sauce, cheese and a variety of traditional and non-traditional pizza toppings.  Next the child would be placed into the oven (translated: under the covers) to cook for a few minutes.  We'd occasionally lift the blankets to check on the baking progress.  Finally, of course, the pizza would be removed from the oven and eaten.  Being eaten was always the favorite part (even when Dad had scratchy whiskers because he hadn't shaved yet).

The last game that jumps to mind is "The Three Little Pigs," and now that we actually have three little kids, all of them will still play this (even my nine year old, but don't tell her I told you that).  This game involves the telling of the traditional three pigs fairy tale while acting it out (in bed, of course).  At the appropriate point in the story, Pig #1 goes into her house made of straw (i.e. under the covers) to hide.  The Big Bad Wolf, also know as Dad, but occasionally Mom, will make a big production of huffing and puffing and blowing the covers off.  Pig #1 must then scurry off to find Pig #2  and hide under the covers... er, house made of sticks.  And on it goes.  You get the idea.  Depending on how badly one wants to stay in bed, the story can be amended to include alternate endings and more time snuggling under the covers.

One day in the future we will wake up and discover that we haven't made any pizzas in bed for a while.  We will also realize that we have ample time for reading and weekend games of touch screen solitaire.  We will be all caught up on PBS's Masterpiece Theater's latest series, and we will be able to carry on intelligent conversations about newspaper articles that we've had time to read and ponder.  And then we will yearn for the days when it required work and imagination to stay in bed all morning.  I know this is true, so I try my best to embrace the little people who constantly infringe upon my efforts to achieve downtime.  I acknowledge that our bed has become a sacred space where we play, rest, and talk about every little thing, and I will remind my kids that they are never to old to climb into "Mommydaddybed" when they need to be looked after or listened to.