Maternity leave = 3 month holiday?

We're on a tight daily schedule at the moment. I find it's the only way to survive the learning curve of having two small children. We all do whatever we do from 7am to 4pm (go to work, go food shopping, find homeschooling activities, etc.). Then from 4pm to 6pm, I am all alone with both the kids. It's scary enough to have induced a severe quatrohoraphobia in me (fear of the hour of 4pm).

As soon as Brad walks in the door at 6pm, the drill starts. Six o'clock is dinner time - we complete cooking supper, eat, pick food up off the floor, wipe it off the walls, catch it as it is spat out for the simple joy of watching it come out, and sometimes take turns standing and rocking niggly babies as we shovel food into our mouths, tasting nothing.

If we manage to get all that done by 7pm, we're on schedule and bath-time can begin. We take turns. One of us will bath a purple screaming infant, who needs to be fully supported and manoeuvred. This is literally back-breaking work. The other will bath a splashing, shrieking toddler who is into asserting his independence. This involves advanced negotiating skills, being sprayed with various bath toys, pulling a dripping, peeing child out of the bath and holding him over the toilet, and chasing him all over the bed trying to get his nappy on before he pees on the bed.

And that brings us to 8pm - bedtime. Again, we share the load. One takes the baby, calms her down from her traumatic bath experience, and rocks her for sixty to ninety minutes. Simple.
The other takes Nikhil, makes him a bottle, lies in bed with him while he drinks it. Sings to him, tells him stories, pats his back. Lets him put his fingers in their mouth, nostrils and cleavage (ok that's only one of us). Gets him more milk if he decides he wants it, gets up to put nose drops in his congested nose, gets up again to put ointment on his eczema. Until eventually exhausted parent falls asleep and Nikhil finally follows suit.

Around 9:30pm the parent on baby-duty will wake the parent on toddler-duty, and the adults can begin bedding down for the night - showering, brushing teeth... Well, that's about it, really. Gone are the days of flossing, Plax-ing, cleansing-toning-moisturising, shaving, body brushing, eye-gelling, lip-lubricating or callus-softening. We neglect those in favour of getting an extra half-hour in bed. (Frankly I think we were bored in those pre-baby days.)

And that's when the night shift begins... Listening out for Ariane's desperate snuffling when she loses her dummy, and trying to plug it back in in the dark, as she rubs her face into the mattress in a vain attempt to find it. (Does she really think that even if she found it, she would be able to put it back in?) This happens about every fifteen minutes, throughout the night. After about four cycles, the snuffling gets more desperate, and the plug doesn't stop it. That's the signal for feed time. Every hour.

In-between feeds and dummy duty, a sleepy croak will emanate from the next room, "Mo-o-ommeeee...". "Yes, Nikhil". "Want a botty." I go downstairs, make the botty, I mean, bottle, and lie with him while he drinks it. Fall asleep. Snap eyes open to the sound of Ariane stirring: it's feeding time.

Repeat entire cycle throughout the night, until finally the alarm goes off at 6am. Time to rise and shine - it's a new day!