On good days, bedtimes signify another tomorrow of laughter and jokes and playfulness and conversation. On bad days the countdown to bedtime starts much earlier in the day, as if it's the countdown to preserving the little sanity I may have left by the time it comes around.
The house slowly quietens, and my ears have some respite from the "Mu-uum!" chorus. My brain begins to wind down and my body relishes not having to rise from my seat every few minutes to tend to a cut that turns out to be a mark left from colouring with felt tip pens earlier on in the day, or to get another drink, or cut up an apple or change a nappy or... or... or anything at all!
And although the house isn't silent it's quieter for a short time. There is still the white noise of the washing machine and dryer. The sounds from the TV in the room next door and the tapping of the keys on the computer keyboard. But it's a relative peace compared to the rest of the busy, noisy day and one that, no matter how much I love my family, a part of the day that I really, really appreciate.
