It is 12:30pm, do you know where your kids are?
Unless something has gone awry or the husband has decided to drive by one last house, mine are in their cribs. Probably not asleep but in their cribs nonetheless. Or more accurately one is in her crib and one is in a pack and play in the other room because sharing a room works great except at naptime. Draconian? perhaps, but sanity saving. Trust.
During naptimes on the weekend my husband and I can actually talk to each other, watch a movie, or work on a house project. Or more likely I can escape for a couple of hours to garage sale or wander around Target aimlessly while the husband watches the futbol (scocer if you're not feeling European though football makes an appearance during the fall).
During the week though, naptime is a double edged sword. I live for it and when it arrives I am ready just to plop down and veg. But the guilt starts to set in... clothes need washing, toilets need cleaning, calls to be returned and bills to be paid. And a husband who knows that those girls nap for a good two hours during the day. But instead of doing any of those many tasks I am eating soup and watching Miami Social. Now if I could only do it guilt free.
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