If you are a mum reading this you will find yourself in this post. If you are reading this for an insight into life with a baby, then this will single handedly be the best post for you to read to get the picture. If you are a mum reading this and you cannot find yourself in this post, then you no longer need to read this blog. You can go now, your mission to motherhood is complete. You are perfect. Oh and while you’re on your way out, can you stop by mine and give me some freaking help?!
First things first, what is the Nap Dash? Better consult the official Oxford English dictionary:
Nap Dash nap dashing, nap dashed
–verb (used with a sigh)
1. The period of time between when a baby sleeps and wakes during day time hours
2. The moment a mum turns into a mentalist
I will bring this to life further by detailing an average day from my week last week. Just another typical day.
6.30am he’s up. I’m knackered. Lets persuade him to have another 20 mins cuddling in my bed. Ah this is lovely. Crap. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m behind schedule now.
7.30, he’s dressed, nappy changed, one weetabix down and well into a round Duplo. In no way will Phoenix and I ever go into the building industry together. I’m clearly destined for property development and he’s way more into demolition. One tower up, one tower down, he makes an escape to the landing. We count our way down all the stairs, giggling as we go. We reach the bottom and back comes the weetabix.
We’ll get to that later. Head to the lounge for a bit of drumming and walking practice (pushy? Me?!) There’s already a pile of washing up. How the hell did that happen?
My eye appears to be growing. Itchy. The suspected infection of last night is no longer a suspicion. Chance a glance in the mirror. I am Quasimodo in pyjamas carrying a love child. 8.45am milk-o-clock.
It’s coming. The nap is coming soon.
I run through my head what I need to do….Right I’m meeting the mums at soft play at 10. I need a shower. I’ve got to put a load of washing on. I better clean up that weetabix, it’s starting to go hard. I need to make that work call. Crap, I’ve got 13 emails already, better scan them. Suppose I should get to the chemist before I go to softplay and sort out my Quasi face.
He’s getting sleepy, he’s rubbing his eyes. It’s coming, the nap is coming.
He’s down. Action stations.
Launch myself into the shower. I cannot possibly go to softplay with hairy legs, better do them right now. Towel dry. Make up. Clothes. Better just spend a few mins trying to tense my abs in the mirror to see if they’re coming back. No. Get on with the vaccuming you silly cow.
Run down the stairs. Oh yes, Mr weetabix, we meet again. Cloth. Hoover. Mid hoover panic I’ve woken him up. Stop everything. Silence, glance up to the silent landing like scene from horror film. Listen carefully, nothing. Continue hoovering. Wash up. Wipe surfaces for the 37,000 time this week.
Breathe. Right, better get my nappy bag ready, snacks. wipes, water…Ok let’s do the work stuff. Call. Email. Forgot to say the important things! Re call, re email.
Right lets get the pram out ready. Bugger it’s raining. Change from Ibiza sunwear I’ve thrown on. Get the raincover out. He’s awake. Eye is massive and weeping what appears be actual snot. So glad I spent time putting my make up on.
Hello Phoenix, good sleeping, kiss, cuddle etc. Let’s go out! Enthusiasm! Socks on. Socks off. Socks on. Into the pram, strapped in. Better put a jumper on you. Straps out, jumper on. Bag is ready, pat myself on back for that! Well done. Idiot – you’ve forgotten his lunch. We won’t be back for lunch. Throw in an Ella’s. Thank god for Ella’s. He’s crying. Quick get out. Get the hell out of there. Give him the dinosaur while you get my coat. Dinosaur on the floor. Phone rings. Oxfam?! No this isn’t a good time.
Just leave the house. Right, I’m leaving, sod it. I’m going.
I close the door. I get to the end of the street.
I turn around and head back in. I’ve forgotten to take the pill. I’m not going ANYWHERE without taking that 🙂