It’s not a secret that I’m a morning person. My best hours are 6am until 11:30 (when I get the hangries because I’m not a breakfast* person). There is still fight in me until about 2, but somewhere around 2:30 my brain clicks over to domestic activities: what is the dinner plan? What’s good on TV tonight? Should I be reading instead? I can’t craft if I’m reading, better look for a podcast…

When the boys were babies, it was great, because 1:30 to 5 was nap time and everything was awesome. Perfect transition time for Mommy. But now…

Let’s put it this way: it’s 3:32, I’m outside with a book on writing that I don’t feel like reading (because I am pecking out this post on my phone instead), I’ve already fought with the boys twice about biking too close to the car, they are currently throwing rocks at the plastic slide in the yard in the hopes of hitting spiders and I am sitting here waiting for: a) storms that were promised so we can go back inside and I can do chores and/or b) one of the boys getting hit by the rocks  and start screaming.

Mother of the year.

The truth is, 3pm is probably my worst hour of the day: I feel accomplished and I can never accomplish anything. I’m grumpy as hell because I probably haven’t eaten anything (like, at all. All day. I keep wishing that coffee will magically turn into legit food but it hasn’t happened yet). The boys, having done their best play in the morning, a are tired, indecisive and s bit needy. Their independent play is over. They are now seeking entertainment. It’s either the television or me. And, well,  I refuse to plop them in front of the television…and I am not feeling personable anymore…

It’s not a good look.

It’s totally fixable because it’s totally a Me Problem.

You know how I know? At 4pm everything is fine again. I get a second wind, I start setting up for cooking dinner, and that new deadline is always enough to keep me moving, even if I’m bone tired.

Last year, I had a plan for this: coloring, print outs, practice sheets for stuff. This year, that all kinda disintegrated. The boys have demanded to go back outside, heat be damned, rather than sit at the table and do stuff. I have capitulated because I’m a moron. It takes them a while to get settled in, and I find myself getting too annoyed to do anything for myself. The result is wasted time and everybody being annoyed for this hour of the day.

This is what summer camp could have saved me from…

But now what?

The temptation is to fill up this time with something formal: reading, hand writing (working on that pencil grip), craft or maybe some hands-on math. But Lord would they hate it. They’d resist and I’d be hissing at them for an hour every day… I honestly believe that free play is the best curriculum for them at this age.

The alternative is to make it Namaste Hour, thanks to a fantastic suggestion from awesome reader Leah. We discovered Cosmic Kids thanks to her, which the boys (Major, especially) love. We do that and then follow up with “Mommy Yoga” (I’m only on day 2 and it’s kicking my ass). The problem has been that’s is so damn hot in the house right now…it’s no fun to get on sweaty and then jump up and make dinner…

Whine whine whine! I sound like my kids!

The last alternative is to always have an afternoon field trip: which means we would be out in the morning AND in the afternoon. Great for little boys, exhausting for mommy! This is an unfortunate disadvantage of our suburban life: no playground to walk to for the afternoon ya-yas. If only.

Or maybe I should force the daily nap?

*Sigh* Camp Mama is already a sinking ship.


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