In which I take a nap

I'm going to be honest about something.

I don't really like naps very much.

(For me, that is.  I LOVE naps for the toddler.)

When BG was a newborn, and didn't sleep AT ALL at night, I treasured the three hours of sleep we got in the morning after my husband left for work because it was the only sleep I got all day.  But now, it's different.    My little one sleeps a lot at night and, more importantly, my big one is awake most of the day.

Two hours a day is all I get to myself.

I want to read, I want to write, I want to learn, I want to play.  I want to eat lots of chocolate.  I want to feel pampered.  I want to get things done around the house, and do it quickly and efficiently.

But man, I'm so tired.

Usually when I take a nap, I wake up feeling worse.  I wake up to my big girl screaming for me from her room, and it takes me a minute to be able to get out of bed.  I feel guilty, groggy and resentful.

But today I'm not sure what happened.  I opened my eyes on the couch a minute before I heard her yell.  And then I slowly got up and finished my water before I went upstairs.  I stopped to pick things up before I went upstairs.  By the time I got there, BG had stopped yelling for me.

I opened her door, and she smiled at me from her bed.  "Good girl!" she announced.

"Yes, baby, you are a good girl."

"Let's go see baby sister!"

"Okay, sweetie, let's go."

I feel human again, I feel refreshed.  And, no, I didn't meet all of my needs during this naptime, but somehow that's okay right now.