One of those nights!

My baby is a terrible sleeper, I mean absolutely shockingly bad and the last few months have involved me functioning in a sleep deprived stupor with several moments of confused dreams versus reality. In fairness none of his older siblings slept either as babies so I can’t claim that I didn’t know what I was getting into but that doesn’t make it any easier when you’re going through the torture that is sleep deprivation.

Yesterday, exhaustion was really catching up with me so I set myself the target of hitting the sack before midnight and preferably by 10:30.  That
is no mean feat in this house! The baby is the only one who tends to wake up at night here, except for bouts of illness, so with no homework or school to get ready for the next day, there was never a better opportunity to catch up (a little bit anyway), on much longed for sleep .

The evening went a bit like this
9:00 p.m. My teenage daughter suddenly decides she needs to know all about quadratic equations, now, not tomorrow or the next day, but at this very moment in time.  Her life practically depends on it (I suspect a maths test is looming that I haven’t been told about – it couldn’t possibly be the Junior Cert because that’s a whole five weeks away!)

10:00 p.m. The two year old comes down the stairs.  He has decided it’s morning time


10:15 p.m The five year old calls to say the two year old is
in his bed…..again

10:30 p.m. The five year old comes down the stairs….just

10:45 p.m The nine year old comes down the stairs because he
has a cramp behind his knee

11:00 p.m The eleven year old comes down the stairs to
remind me that I have to sign the note for for his school tour (have I
mentioned my primary schoolers have no school this week)

11:30 p.m. Husband goes to feed the dog, forgets he has already put the alarm on, opens the back door, baby awake!

12:15 a.m  baby fed , changed and finally settled, I fall into bed exhausted

1:10 a.m baby awake again, wants a quick feed and cuddle

2:25 a.m. Five year old comes into the room.  Says he has been burping a lot and needed to say excuse me. Apparently he couldn’t just say it to himself. He needed someone to hear it or else it would be bad manners. I look at him bleary eyed. Its 2:25 in the morning, far too early or late to consider the whole “if a tree falls in the wood and there’s no one to hear it” philosophy

2:30 a.m Baby wakes….. repeat 1:10 a.m.

3:00 a.m Two year old appears convinced the Gruffalo is
after him

3:25 a.m Two year old reappears to tell us he loves us, and he loves food and he loves the fridge apparently. He also thinks he might need a wee

3:45 a.m. Baby wakes , just to check I’m still about

4:30 a.m Nine year old appears, cramp behind his knee again and he wonders if we know whether or not he will be going to his friends for a
sleepover this week

4:45  a.m. Baby wakes – weak with the hunger!

5:30 a.m. Baby wakes to check he hasn’t been abandoned

6:25 a.m. I wake to hear the two year old singing in his bed “We dig for diamonds, we dig for gold”, a song from Ben and Holly ………and a new day


The Ben and Holly effect…

I’ve realised recently, that my two year old believes the rules of Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom apply to this house. For anyone who has a pre-schooler or younger school child, you’ll appreciate that magic always leads to trouble so that part doesn’t come into play. The threat of it, however, does. My toddler has threatened to turn me into a frog, with his breakfast spoon, a calpol syringe and our sitting room table lamp, on more than several occasions over the last few days. Reason being, he wasn’t getting his own way. Today he poured his Rice Krispies on the floor – because he didn’t want them, he wanted chocolate eggs instead. When I, in my humble opinion, quite rightly told him off for his behaviour, he put on his best Nanny Plum voice and Nanny Plum did not agree with me. “Yellow card for being naughty”, I was told. As I reiterated that this was not to happen again, he continued “red card for talking back”. Its hard to keep a straight face when I look at his earnest face and hear him quote lines from a programme now much more familiar to me than Eastenders, but I did my best. Once again the breakfast spoon was waved at me. This time I was to be a slug. That was enough to cause the breakdown that followed. “Where’s my wise old elf slug” he said, remembering suddenly that the slug was missing. Tears followed, as did frantic searches under the couch and behind the television. But no slug was to be found. We did eventually however, find the “wise old elf” under one of the cushions. This is my son’s favourite toy. “Silly old elf, back to yourself” he said, pacified once more. As we all know, elves don’t do magic, so now that the wise old elf has been found I am safe from being turned into a frog, slug or snail for the time being. Elves however, do blow bloody loud horns every time they say “and I’m an elf” so the six month old won’t be napping for too long……..