More often than not these days, I find myself awake in a house full of sleeping boys.
The husband works shifts so he often has to sleep in the day. And sometimes the god of good children looks down on me and decides to sync my boys’ nap times.
This is always much needed and usually I would be grateful but it can be rather difficult to know what to do during that hour or two.
Housework is obviously a must but the fear of making noise and waking the boys is enough to leave me frozen to the floor. Or chair. Or the Thomas the Tank Engine play table – wherever my weary head has crashed to be honest.
Besides, I guess the housework can wait ’till the evening when the boys are in bed – I’m sure I will have much more energy then to crack on… *Ahem*
Writing is therefore my next priority. However the clack, clack, clack of the keyboard seems to disturb my youngest so I have to attempt to type away on my phone. Inheriting my father’s stubby, sausage fingers has made this a frustrating task.
So instead of doing anything productive during these precious moments, I usually spend it battling off the urge to sleep.
To bed most nights at 11pm and awake around 6am – sometimes earlier – with numerous ups and downs in the night to attend to a crying baby or a toddler with a tummy ache (which he has convinced himself a Jaffa Cake will heal), I am tired.
Do I want sympathy? No. Should I go to bed earlier? No. Should I grab every opportunity for sleep? No.
And thats’s because while I may be falling asleep, even while trying to type this reluctantly on my phone, I’m still getting those all important words down.
Who needs sleep when you can write a novel, right?
And maybe when it’s done – well, the first draft at least – my husband may treat me to a little lay-in.
Do allow me one little moan though won’t you? Why is it when I decide to wake up ahead of the boys, they sleep in till 8am…
Thanks for reading.
(Roll on NaNoWriMo)