Aimee Horton

When they are sleeping.

Jan
19

There are so many magical moments every day when you have children.  Whether it’s the time they stand and bang on the door of the shower while you’re trying to shave your legs. Maybe it’s the moment they wee in the craft box when you stupidly give them nappy free time.  Or perhaps it’s the in depth conversation about pooh being stuck to their bottom at 2am in the morning for an emergency pooh party (do you wipe it off or wait for another pooh to knock it off?).  Yes. Really.  Moments that we will love and cherish for the rest of our lives.

But, and I don’t know about you, my favourite moment ever is when my boys are asleep.  Sometimes I feel a teeny tiny bit guilty as I celebrate with a bottle glass of wine the accomplishment of making it through another day (especially those HORRIBLE final two hour).  After the chaos of bed time, the frustration of story time (please don’t make me read Bear Hunt AGAIN).  After I’ve gone back up and threatened to remove a magnet from the reward chart if there is ONE MORE request for “something” and when it’s Peace at Last.

Suddenly the frustrations of the day disappear.  I almost smile lovingly when I skid across the hall floor on a toy car strategically placed just out of sight of the bottom step.  I barely swear when I stand in a bit of squished tomato, or soggy toast that’s been missed at the dinner time clean up.  I think back to the naughtiness and the tantrums and nearly laugh at the cheekiness and the answering back.  I relay the most stressful moments of the day back to Mr. Aimee as if it was almost fun.  I get a little wistful, I pop up to stroke their hair out of the faces, remove toys from beds, and bottles from cots.  Tucking them in. Feeling lucky and lovely as they make little noises, rolling over and clonking their heads on the side of the cot.

But then, as I’m sitting with my feet up crying at One Born Every Minute, and the war cry “MUMMMMYYYYYY ELMO BUMPED HIS HEADDD ON THE BEEEDDD” bellows down the stairs waking the fat one up, I remember why I love them best when they’re asleep, and I no longer feel guilty, just a little bit pissed off, knowing that the last of the Malteasers will be gone by the time I get back.

5 Responses to When they are sleeping.

  1. Pingback: When you can’t find the mute button. | The Perfect Bad Mummy

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