Thursday, April 20, 2006
Mom can barely believe her good fortune...
...and it began to get to her this afternoon. You know, over the last few days I haven't fought her. She's been allowed to sleep [almost] as much as she wants (which, in some cases, yesterday, for instance, was prodigious), eat or not as she wishes, and remain as immobile as she pleases. She's been sighing with relief for the last few days.
Today she finally got suspicious. She slept until maybe around 1300. Up on her own. I met her in the bathroom. She complained that she didn't want a bath. I checked her bed and confirmed that a "short bath" would be in order. She tried to argue me out of it. I gave in. Long bath it is. No, she said, she'd much prefer a short bath.
Three and a half hours after having awakened she gave me a devlish grin and said, "I think I'll go lay down for awhile."
"I'll meet you in the bathroom," I said. No, "Can't you wait for another half hour? You've only been up for [some portion of four hours]. We've got to get you moving. That's it. Come on. You're not napping, we're going to get you out on the driveway..."
"Do you think I she took a nap?" She was no longer grinning.
"If you want to, go for it."
"Do you think it's too early?"
"The question is, do you?"
"No, I guess not."
"Well, then, all I have to say is, Nap, Nap, not Night, Night." This is something I always say to her when I kiss her before she lays into her nap.
She headed in but seemed almost reluctant.
She was back up again in about 15 minutes. I'd told her, in answer to her question, which she asks occasionally when she's a little hazy, "And where are you going to be," as I wished her "Nap, Nap, not Night, Night" that I'd be, "right here, in the living room, where you left me, doing the same things, probably in half light as I will have forgotten to turn on the living room lights."
Anyway, she got up about 15 minutes into her nap to make sure I was "still here".
"If you want to get rid of me, woman, you're going to have to evict me," I told her.
She laughed. "No chance of that," she said.
So, although she's not a whole hell of a lot more active than yesterday, the gears are turning and keeping her on her toes or, in her case, I guess, perched forward in her rocker. She's keeping herself guessing. Good.
Later.
Today she finally got suspicious. She slept until maybe around 1300. Up on her own. I met her in the bathroom. She complained that she didn't want a bath. I checked her bed and confirmed that a "short bath" would be in order. She tried to argue me out of it. I gave in. Long bath it is. No, she said, she'd much prefer a short bath.
Three and a half hours after having awakened she gave me a devlish grin and said, "I think I'll go lay down for awhile."
"I'll meet you in the bathroom," I said. No, "Can't you wait for another half hour? You've only been up for [some portion of four hours]. We've got to get you moving. That's it. Come on. You're not napping, we're going to get you out on the driveway..."
"Do you think I she took a nap?" She was no longer grinning.
"If you want to, go for it."
"Do you think it's too early?"
"The question is, do you?"
"No, I guess not."
"Well, then, all I have to say is, Nap, Nap, not Night, Night." This is something I always say to her when I kiss her before she lays into her nap.
She headed in but seemed almost reluctant.
She was back up again in about 15 minutes. I'd told her, in answer to her question, which she asks occasionally when she's a little hazy, "And where are you going to be," as I wished her "Nap, Nap, not Night, Night" that I'd be, "right here, in the living room, where you left me, doing the same things, probably in half light as I will have forgotten to turn on the living room lights."
Anyway, she got up about 15 minutes into her nap to make sure I was "still here".
"If you want to get rid of me, woman, you're going to have to evict me," I told her.
She laughed. "No chance of that," she said.
So, although she's not a whole hell of a lot more active than yesterday, the gears are turning and keeping her on her toes or, in her case, I guess, perched forward in her rocker. She's keeping herself guessing. Good.
Later.
