I sit in my office upstairs as my youngest rolls trucks around his room and presses buttons on an electronic book. He’s dropped his nap over a year earlier than my other two kids. I’m not ready. So just like with his older siblings, I tell him he doesn’t have to sleep, but we’re going to have quiet time. He needs to rest. I also explain that it’s Mommy’s quiet time, too. I’m not shy about this.

I settle into my chair, a blanket pulled over my lap, coffee at the ready, and a book in hand. His calls begin.

My three kids actually napped simultaneously yesterday. It was glorious. I don’t think that’s happened in at least six months, because my twins have dropped their nap for the most part—and it came back to bite us last night when they weren’t asleep until 10pm. But for one afternoon, I savored the quietness while my kiddos slept. And by savored, I mean that I didn’t do anything “productive” and read a book the entire time.