With our day starting a little earlier than last year – and about three hours earlier than it did in the summer holidays – I’m finding that I can keep busy until about 3ish, doing school runs, getting groceries, running errands, even the gym. But then, like clockwork, at 3pm, my body (and mind) say: “That’s it! Nap!”
Of course, this isn’t compatible with two small boys, who thought naps were overrated even when they were babies. So I plough on, hoping for a second wind (which usually comes after the children are in bed).
Today, though, I tried to sneak a nap in. I honestly thought that in the precious quiet time in between LB coming home from school and BB’s return (after which he loves nothing more than to populate our house with his friends), I might be able to take a power nap. On the sofa. While LB played with his cars. Just for 10 minutes.
“Mummy, you’re the runway,” giggled LB, landing his fighter jet on my face. “Jugga-jugga-jugga. Dthug, dthug!” [Thanks DH for the Pearl Harbour suggestion just before heading out the door.]
This was followed by: “Mum, WHY are you sleeping? It’s N.O.T. nighttime!” Said with the indignation of a put-out 3YO worried it might actually be night.
He prized my eyelids open with his little fingers, walloped me with the airplane a second time and climbed on top of me to bring me back to life.
Then came the sentence that was sure to get me moving.
“Mummy, my pee’s coming!”
I should have known my chances of 10 minutes of shut-eye were about the same as a puffy rain cloud floating past in the bright-blue sky and dousing our desert garden with wet stuff.