Finding Quiet Time

It is still dark. A faint glow in the east tells me it is morning, time to get up. The house is quiet; my husband and children are still asleep. Yes! I have a little time to sneak downstairs and curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee, to pray and spend the first few moments of the day getting my heart in the right place to deal with a four-year-old and a baby.

The baby is a very light sleeper. Once she wakes up, the day will begin in earnest. So I have to tiptoe past her room, avoiding the squeaky boards in the floor. I know which stairs will creak when I step on them, so I descend like a contortionist, feeling with a toe while I hang on to the banister. Slowly, slowly, step by step…WAAAAAHHH! She heard me! She’s awake—no time this morning to sit quietly before God.

With sinking heart, I switch gears and greet my little daughter with cheery words and what I hope looks like a smile. Diapers, breakfast, another day has begun.

I remember those days like they happened yesterday, those long, long days of caring for the needs of little people. For an introvert, the constant interaction with young children becomes overwhelming. You reach a point of emotional exhaustion, but guess what? No matter how you feel, the needs of those little ones come first. (Don’t worry; the time will come when they want you to leave THEM alone.)

What to do? You are starting to feel frantic inside—the children are whining and making messes everywhere, asking for this and that, and you are the mom, and you HAVE to cope. (I remember a time when I curled up on a kitchen chair and thought, if I hear the word “Mommy” one more time I am going to lose it! But of course, I couldn’t.)

Thankfully, there is a way to meet the need for solitude and still be a good mom. Naps! Naps are wonderful, and little children need them to thrive. I sometimes hear mothers of toddlers say, “Oh, he doesn’t take naps anymore,” and I have to bite my tongue to keep from giving unsolicited advice.

Here is what worked for me: Naps were required. For the child who said she wasn’t tired, I would call it “Quiet Time.” The child had to stay in her bed, but she could look at a book or play with a toy, and I would set a kitchen timer for an hour and put it in her room where she could see and hear it. Invariably, when I peeked in her room half an hour later, she would be sound asleep. I’d reset the timer to go off later, and quietly leave to spend some time alone and catch my breath for the remainder of the day.

“Quiet Time” worked for the first five years. It gave the children an opportunity to recharge, and gave me the solitude I needed. So don’t let your toddler talk you out of naptime—he needs it as much as you do…well, maybe not quite as much!