The dragon
IT’S a beautiful Sunday morning. The sun is shining, the laundry is done and Joel has taken the children out to meet a friend for breakfast. I have the house to myself and therefore my mood has sky rocketed. I am ecstatic. I could quite literally do anything I please. The freedom.
So, I have done what any sensible, self-respecting mother in my position would do; I have taken to bed. *One lengthy nap later*.
My existence of late can be easily divided into two Mummy states: Pre-nap Mummy and post-nap Mummy. They are two very different women.
Pre-nap first-thing-in-the-morning-Mummy is most likened to a dragon and ideally should be avoided at all costs. She is not pleasant.
If interaction with pre-nap Mummy must occur, it should be kept to an absolute minimum, sticking to the pure necessities of vocal exchange.
“Are the car keys where you left them?”
“Has Leo had his porridge?”
“I have a work call at 11.”
That sort of thing. No loud or sudden noises, no pleasantries and, most importantly, no jokes. Pre-nap Mummy cannot stand attempts at lightening her mood. (Particularly jokes made by post-eight-hourstraight-sleep-Daddy, whom she resents vehemently for around the first 10 minutes of every single day.)
She wishes to remain in her dragon-like state until she naturally finds herself out if it. (Most likely after her nap, which may or may not happen). The first few minutes of any given day can be tricky for those cohabiting with pre-nap Mummy, who is both despondent and raging, but no one quite knows why.
She’s silent then snappy, morose yet vicious.
If she could actually breathe fire, she most definitely would. (She does so metaphorically through her glaring eyes, sharp tongue and generally hostile demeanour).
This is the sleep-deprived woman in her darkest hour.
Post-decent-sleep-Daddy doesn’t know whether to greet the dragon and ask her how her night went with baby dragon, or whether this will merely enrage her further.
Even in her seething state dragon-Mummy appreciates the thought, but more so the opportunity to tell the household exactly how her night went.
They cannot possibly understand or know how she feels and this fact alone infuriates her.
“HE IS TEETHING HOW DO YOU THINK IT WENT. I WOKE UP MULTIPLE TIMES. SO
MANY TIMES. I AM EXHAUSTED. LEAVE ME ALONE.”
There are tears. As a reply, slept-fine-thanksDaddy will regularly make the same wise offering, of which dragon-Mummy could go either way on:
“Do you need a cuddle?” He is tentative.
“NO! GET OFF ME YOU WELL RESTED MAN, GO AWAY.” Is one possible reply.
The dragon is frustrated at how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the man appears.
Where are his dark circles? His eye bags? Why is he so cheerful?
But often, knowing he is only doing his best to offer some form of comfort, she will momentarily rest her weary dragon-head on his chest before allowing his arms to gently wrap round her.
She is defeated.
The embrace softens her mood. Unable to maintain her ferocity any longer, she slowly, over the course of the morning morphs out of dragon mode and back into her usual, more level-headed and approachable self.
Post-nap Mummy has both these qualities, plus boundless energy and a strong desire to do all of the things, just everything imaginable.
She is how I wish I could exist all of the time.