It is with much sorrow that we say RIP afternoon nap time.
You served us well and we were so very fond of you. So, so, so very fond.
We looked forward to your arrival every day. In fact, we often counted down the hours with anticipation.
We relied in you, because you were often what got us through the day, knowing that your arrival would signal an hour or two of peace and quiet. Time to get some work done. Time to clean up, organise dinner, pay bills. Or watch The Real Housewives of at least two different cities while bidding on unnecessary Ebay crap and Tweeting.
Alas, you are gone. The Twin Tornado have outgrown you. A cruel twist of ironic fate, as Miss6 was at least a year older before she outgrew her daily nap. But the universe sends me two at once, and then robs me of my shred of down-time (which is almost never down) a whole year earlier this time, leaving me with two whiny, over-tired but determined little mini bastards who I love dearly but especially so when they sleep.
The not tired toddler. Asleep at the dinner table. But not tired.
Every day I yearn for you, nap time, and I feel your loss deeply as the clock hits 2pm and I realize you’re not coming back. And while I search for something to occupy the Twin Tornado for those 2 hours that used to be dedicated to you, I mourn you and everything you meant. Especially the Ebay bargains and the various unreal domestic situations of all The Real Housewives that I’m missing out on while having to occupy the Twin Tornado.
To add insult to injury, the little bastards aren’t making up for your absence elsewhere. They don’t go to sleep any earlier at night, and they certainly don’t get up any later in the morning. In fact, they’re really screwing with me and rising a full 2 hours earlier than they used to. We’re talking 6am – 7am instead of their previous 8am – 9am rising. Between you and me, nap time, I suspect they are hooked on diet pills or Speed or something. It's just not humanly possible for anyone to survive on that little sleep, much less a pair of 3yr olds.
Cranky like a mofo, and also, apparently sporting flames for hair. Seems appropriate.
It hurts me deeply and occasionally I shed a tear. But only if there’s no point in pretending to be asleep so #1 Hubby has to get up to them.
I’m even experiencing physical symptoms of grief and loss. I’ve found not one, but two white eyebrow hairs. We’re not even talking grey, we’re talking white, pure as good quality toilet paper white. Clearly I’m going into shock and my body isn’t coping.
The second I spot another white hair anywhere on my person I’m going on the hunt for drugs to sedate them in the wee early hours of the morning. I will sneak into their room at 5am and covertly dose them up with some fabulous and revolutionary non-harmful, totally herbal, free range, organic, rain forest alliance certified, all-natural kiddy sedation that has the added benefit of being packed with the recommended daily intake of iron and calcium and every vitamin 3yr olds should be getting in order to graduate top of their class and become uber professionals who win Nobel Prizes and have hundreds of friends (on Facebook and for reals) and successful relationships and adore and worship their mother, forever funding her bi-annual Bali holidays.
Because sleep is important, right?
