I never in a million years imagined I would live my life by any seasons other than the 4 we were taught about in preschool. But here I am, living by seasons. Just two. In season. And off season. Baseball season and, the highly coveted, off season.
When February 1 rolls around we pack up and head south to Florida for spring training. For me, this is the best part of the year. Although it is the start of baseball season, it’s like the graded beach pool entry….it slowly eases you in and let’s you get your feet wet. Tom is definitely preoccupied with baseball. Mentally and physically. He is focused on getting ready to perform at his peak for the next 6, hopefully 7, months.
But for me and the mini, we get to relax! We aren’t in our own home so the stress of house projects doesn’t exist. Organizing closets. Repainting rooms. Rearranging furniture. None of that! At times it’s uncomfortable living in a rented space, but the warm sunshine, pools, and beaches quickly overrides the “discomforts” of not being home. And the best part about spring training…daddy’s days are short and he comes home EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! We eat dinner together as a family every night. And most days he’s home for lunch. Saying it’s awesome is an understatement! And needless to say we get super spoiled!
And as most of America anxiously awaits Opening Day of its favorite past time…for our family it’s bitter sweet. Baseball season, like any season, has its pros and cons. We get to watch daddy succeed at something he loves dearly. We get to cheer him on every day at his job! Something that most families never get to experience. But at the same time we have to say goodbye to our dad. On average, 15 days of every month. He is gone. On the road. And we don’t get Saturdays and Sundays together like most families. He gets, on average, 2 days off each month. And when they occur it’s usually a Monday or Thursday. And not only that, but the hours he works are kind of weird. He leaves the house around lunch time and gets home around 11pm (on a good night). You get the point… it’s a super odd schedule and he is gone A LOT.
So what does this mean for a little person. Well…her schedule changes too!! In this lifestyle we call it a “baseball schedule”. You will hear wives saying “do you put your kid on a baseball schedule?” And for me, in the past, I have. So what does a baseball schedule look like? For us, our sleep schedule is always 12 hours. Well not me and Tom of course. Wow! That would be amazing! Ha ha. But Parker. She always sleeps 12 hours. {the sleep training program I followed is another blog post for another day} So when baseball season hits we gradually transition her to sleeping from 7-7 to 10-10. If we go to a game and get home at 11, she is barely off her schedule. If daddy’s game goes into extra innings and he doesn’t get home until 2 am, or he comes in from a road trip on the west coast at 5am, we don’t have a tiny human waking up at 7am. So we shift. We all shift to a crazy late schedule. Which makes grocery shopping at 9pm with a wild 1 year old super fun!! And the awful parent stares you get are even better ?
So how does this work? We invest in black out shades AND curtains. We all have sound machines. And we quickly locate all the local diners that serve breakfast all day ? We start about a week prior and we bump the wake up time back by 30 mins. We just don’t go get her from her bed for an extra 30 mins. And then at night, we keep her up for 30 mins longer. And gradually, over the course of a week (give or take a few days) she is now sleeping from 10-10. There are days of regressions and crazy meltdowns but after a few weeks we are all night owls who could never make it to a Chick-fil-a breakfast ? (which might possibly be the worst idea I ever had!!) But it’s what works for our family! Or at least it has in the past. This will continue to be our routine until the little lady hits preschool. Then we step back and reevaluate and decide what works for us in that moment. But for now, it’s the commencement of the Layne household gradual sleep schedule shift.
Don’t call me before 9am ?