Noah-en a baby is tired...

Before heading over to campus to attend class this afternoon, I spent the morning babysitting a 7-month-old baby boy. He is the baby brother of my former student. Usually, I babysit for my old students, who all live in my neighborhood - they are 3 and 4 years old. Anyway, I was trying to put Noah down at 9:30 this morning for his first nap of the day (rough life), but for some reason, he would not stop crying. I mean, he was really hysterical. But, that's probably what he does every time someone puts him down for a nap (babies don't realize how luxurious napping is), I thought. I stood outside the door.

Ten minutes passed. He wasn't giving up. The cries had slowly transitioned into a painful series of ear-numbing screeches. I felt so bad for him, I went back into his room and picked him up. To calm him down, I started slowly walking around the house with him in my arms, whispering to him quietly. Eventually, I brought him outside to the back porch - he stopped crying (literal miracle). We spent a few minutes walking around the porch before heading back upstairs. 

I was barely one step into the kid's room before the wailing started again. This time, it was worse than before. What could possibly be wrong, I thought. I started walking with him around the house again. The crying stopped. 

Ten minutes passed. I decided to give nap-time another go. But, alas, a single step into Noah's room was all it took to get the waterworks going again.

Finally, it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, Noah was hungry. So, downstairs we went (one. last. time.). I fixed his bottle: first measuring 3 scoops of formula, then mixing the powder with 6 ounces of water, and finally, shaking it all together. Noah's eyes lit up. 

Ten minutes passed. The bottle was completely empty and, in my arms, a seemingly content baby boy sat, fighting to keep his eyes open. Noah and I made one last journey upstairs to his bedroom. This time, Noah went down for his nap without a fuss. He slept for almost two hours, and when he woke up, he was smiley, giggly, and happy to see me.

It bothers me how adults constantly do what I did this morning. As adults, we have a tendency to fabricate complication. We invite stress and anxiety into our lives by generating complexities out of things/attitudes/ideas that are supposed to be perfectly simple. 

Babies feel what their body tells them to feel. It was clear to me that Noah was not crying because he was experiencing pain, physically or emotionally. Obviously, he wasn't tired (at 9:30, when he was "supposed" to be). What else do babies really feel? 

Today, the minutes that fell between 9:30 and 10:30 A.M. were unproductive - not just for me, but for Noah, too. Even though he wouldn't be able to articulate what happened, the truth of the matter is that Noah and I both experienced a feeling of overwhelming frustration this morning. I managed to muddle through the morning routine, but it never had to be that difficult.