Before I hit publish, I need to preface this with I am tired. Bone achingly, hold-a-pillow-over-my-face-and-scream, shitty at the world, tired. I don’t want sympathy, but if I make you smile, let me know, cause that will make me happy. Truly it will. I live to make you smile.
Any offense taken at this post is your sole responsibility. I really don’t care. Cause, I don’t know if you know, I am freaking tired.
The internet seems to be having issues with sleep. Every blog I visit seems to have some whinger banging on about ‘oh woe is me, I can’t sleep’ or ‘little precious didn’t sleep last night and now I am totally exhausted’. OK, I admit some of the whining is legitamite, sick kids and insomnia and all that, but for the most part these people are pissing me off.
I haven’t had a decent nights sleep in, lets see,
or since the birth of Boo.
When Boo was born he stopped breathing. So for the first 18 months he had a breathing monitor strapped to his belly. Affectionately called his ‘ticker’. Little bastard slept all through the night. I spent the time listening for the alarm to go off.
Then the little shit decided that day sleeps were not needed. At 8 months old. The kid did not sleep during daylight hours (save being sick) from before he could crawl.
I used to be a sleeper. 9 or 10 hours a night was common. DH used to say that in winter I went into hibernation. It wasn’t unusual for me to crawl into bed with a hot chocolate (sometimes laced with Baileys or somesuch) when the girls went to bed at 7pm. Kids in bed at 7pm. Sigh. I am lucky if I am in bed before the next day…..
And I was a heavy sleeper. Nothing could wake me. I mean NOTHING *snigger*. Now the slightest change in breathing pattern of the child across the hall and my eyes fly open begging God, Allah, The Goddess, anyone who will listen, that Boo will stay. in. bed.
And then there are the nights when Boo turns on the stealth ninja moves and wakes without me hearing. They are the nights where I wake with a start, the intermingled aroma of shit and toothpaste vaguely registering and notice that my bedroom door is shut. Wrestle with the options. Get up now and clean up or try and ignore it for a few more precious minutes of sleep. Then I wake up fully and my heart leaps to my mouth.
Elvis could have left the building.
He could be playing in the backyard or making dirt angels in the next door neighbours driveway. Wearing nothing but a tshirt and a smile. (Ask me how I know. No don’t, just read back posts of my blog. I couldn’t be bothered. Cause I am TIRED!)
Or calling a number he saw on the television. I sprug him a while back calling to inquire about a home loan. Apparently he ordered the house beforehand.
I fly out of bed to survey the destruction. On, at best, 4 hours sleep.
So suck it up people. Have a Nanna nap. I will crochet you a rug while I am up.