Helen Martin’s Blog

[1]: http://www.backtothebible.org/broadcasts/gtj/

One of the biggest transitions for a mom occurs when her child is about four years old and naptime becomes a thing of the past. It is a bittersweet time as the last vestige of toddler-hood is fading and she must readjust the structure of her day without the welcome hour or two of peace in the middle of each afternoon.

While nothing is really the same as being alone in a perfectly quiet house while my “babies” sleep, there is a great substitute that provides nearly as much time for me and something of perhaps greater value for my children.

It’s called Quiet Hour, and I first learned about the idea from Elisabeth Elliot’s daughter, Valerie Shepherd, when she was a guest on her mother’s daily 15 minute radio program, [Gateway to Joy][1]. I gleaned countless golden grains of wisdom and bushels of practical advice from Mrs. Elliot’s program over the years (until it went off the air in 2001) and Quiet Hour is one for which I am especially thankful.

When the time is right, Glorious Naptime does not slip away, but rather is gradually replaced with Precious Quiet Hour. The child goes into his room, or some other cozy, secluded spot, and instead of sleeping, he plays by himself. Quietly. For about an hour.

(Yeah, thanks Helen. That’s revolutionary!) The “conditions” are what make QH so special.

1) The toys and activities are imagination driven and kid powered. Coloring, playing with the wooden train set or hot wheels cars, “reading” books or playing with stuffed animals are all great examples. Nothing with batteries or an electrical cord, and no toys that are intrinsically noisy.

2) The child has a few minutes before the start of the hour use the potty and gather the stuff they want to play with. Once the quiet time starts the child has to stay put. They need to entertain themselves and live with any unanswered questions they might have until the hour ends. (Our general rule about the bathroom is, if you have to go, go. That is true for QH, too. But of course if they “have to go” every five minutes, or if they are stalling in there until their legs fall asleep, well, you know the drill.)

The secret to our success in implementing this practice with our three oldest children, each in their turn, has been to introduce it gradually. Henry (our fourth) still naps daily (woohoo) but pretty soon there will be an afternoon when sleep is too elusive (and mischief probably isn’t.) This will happen two or three times in a week, and again a couple times the next week. That will be my sign that he’s ready.

On a day of the week when there are no evening committments, I will offer him the choice of having a nap after lunch or a Quiet Hour. That is all I’ll have to do. From then on, QH will be looked at as “getting out of taking a nap” and he’ll beg me for it. Of course it will be months before he stops having naps all together. I will decide each day which to choose based on how tired he looks or on his demeanor.

He knows little about the concept except that his older siblings do it most Saturdays, and most weekdays during the summertime, so he’ll need to be taught the particulars.

I will be flexible with him as he adjusts. Maybe I will let him zoom down and get the “one last thing” that he forgot to gather in preparation.

At first I’ll check on him often to remind him I’m around and still “watching” over him. We won’t work up to an hour, we’ll start at an hour from the beginning with me checking in on him every 10 minutes or so. And then we’ll work down to fewer and fewer times of checking him, until we’ve gone the whole hour.

I am less flexible with the “no questions” part of the plan. For instance, if he calls down to me, “Maaaama! Can I play with Jack when he comes home from school?” I will respond, but I won’t satisfy his curiosity. I’ll say, “Henry, you can ask me that after Quiet Hour; there are no questions right now.”

And from the very beginning, I will be utterly inflexible about the types of activities allowed during that Precious QH.

The importance of this is hard to overstate. QH is a lovely peaceful island, and like Macinaw - which won’t allow cars because to do so would change what the place is - so QH must retain it’s characteristics or cease to be what it is.

They will ask if they can play on the computer during that time, (”We’ll leave the sound off!”) or if they can join a sibling in a game of checkers (We’ll play really quietly!”) but I never allow it.

When they ask for these amendments, I say, “Can you have a round square? Then, no, of course you can’t play with your sister during Quiet Hour, or it wouldn’t be Quiet Hour.”

I might *cancel* it in favor of letting them do something else, but I always preserve what QH is.

See, if all I wanted was quiet, I could sit them in front of a movie down in the playroom and close the door. But what I want is something all together unique. A simple time when their minds can either be engaged in what they’re doing, or daydream, or wander or just REST. A time when I know they are staying put and are safe; when they have to be content with what is in front of them and can’t simply revert to their default activity of asking me questions.

Valerie Shepherd is the mother of eight and all of them had QH daily all through their teens. She shared that the practice allowed her to have a 20 minute nap each day and 40 remaining minutes to focus on other tasks that couldn’t be done with little ones around. She said that nap and that time were necessary for her or she couldn’t do all that was required of her as mother of such a large family - as well as being a pastor’s wife.

(That 20 minute nap idea is gold. It is just long enough, not too long.)

When all the kids are home, it’s really hard to leave them all together for too long before conflict of one kind or another erupts. But an hour apart, to relax and regroup works wonders.

Being alone and being quiet are objectively Good things; and it doesn’t come naturally to many children to appreciate them. Our children were not exceptions to that but had to be trained. And now our two oldest (eight and 10) each *like* to go off and be alone and read, or draw, or whatever.

In fact, Kenny often asks for an hour and a half.