We Will Rock You

Just before 5 a.m.
Sunday morning.
Son#1 and Son#2 are found downstairs in the living room and swiftly sent back to bed.
Son#3 also wakes (again - he was awake until 1h30).
The husband is in Delft and won't be back until noon, probably later and probably with a hangover.
I am sick - I have the flu and a throat infection and long to be united with a pillow and duvet.
So I do my calculations (at 5 a.m. this requires some effort) and realize that if the husband is only back at noon, then I will already have a 7-hour workday behind me.  
Hard labour.  
Like in the Salt Mines.
Sigh.

After everyone is pushed back to bed, I knock on the walls a few times whenever the Natives get Restless, or if I hear footsteps that suggest that they have left the confines of their beds.  
Just to let them know that Big Mother is Watching.

Just before 6 a.m., to them singing Queen's 'We will Rock You' (yes, they are rather musical...), I lose it and blow my top.
It's that point where you understand, lucidly, that there will be no further sleep nor rest, and that it is better - for all - to accept this.
The futility of even trying.

Parenting is tough.  
Kids complicate things.
But I love them, you know.

So we go downstairs and start our day.
Armed with Paracetomol and Positivity.




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