My dearest son.

My adorable little man.

Do you have a death wish? Or are you secretly plotting to have me keel over before my time due to sleep deprivation and sheer frustration?

I understand that you don’t need to sleep. I understand that your brain is wired in some fantabulous way that means that you can function with a bees dick worth of sleep and wake bouncing off the walls.

Yeah I get that.

But Mummy can’t. Sorry about that.

So when you sleep for a couple of hours a night for 3 weeks straight Mummy gets a little cranky. Mummy doesn’t want to play Hyperdash, or endless Boo-draws-a-random-shape-in-the-air-and-Mummy-has-to-guess-what-it-is-or-Boo-has-a -freaking-meltdown games. Or listen to Spongebob Squarepants, The Sweet Escape, Bohemian Rhapsody, Shrek 12 Days of Christmas and a hundred freaking episodes of Homestar Runner on loop. All. At. The. Same. Time.

All day and night.

Sometimes Mummy likes to rest. Sometimes Mummy sits on the couch with her eyes shut. But Mummy never likes to be greeted with a poke in the eye or a yell in the ear of ‘Wake up I hungry’.

A gentle shake on the shoulder or a kiss would be preferable.

When Mummy is sleeping it is not a good idea to:

  • Smear your poo or toothpaste on the walls, floors, toys, lounge suite or bunny.
  • Empty the contents of the pantry on the kitchen benches to make a shop.
  • Write on the walls. With mustard.
  • Call random numbers you hear on the radio or the TV. Especially the ones that talk about getting a better erection or those chicks that want to talk to you noooow.
  • Wake Mummy by the aforementioned means or with a Teletubbie inches from her face while chanting ‘Kill Kill Kill’

Or any of the crazy arsed unusual things that you find amusing and entertaining.

If it usually results in Mummy exclaiming ‘Oh Boo!’ it is probably not a good idea.

Especially when Mummy is dragging her arse around tired. And I tell you when I am tired.

OK, here is the deal. You sleep. Mummy gets sleep. The End.

Or I will be forced to do something you hate. Despise. That makes you run out of the vicinity screaming with the horror of it all.

I will sing.

Oh yeah buddy, I will sing loud. With smiling. And over emphasised actions. That I make up myself. That are vastly different to the Boo ordained actions that are acceptable in this household.

Or I will inform the military of your secret super nada sleeping powers. I am sure that they will be very interested……

Your choice buddy.

Love you,

Mummy

xx

************************

I have offered Moo cold hard CASH to watch Boo for me tonight.  I am going to bed.  At 9pm.

SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

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Boo shouldn’t drink orange juice.  It makes him a little silly.
Today  I let him have some.

He swooned.

He drank it and said:

‘I love orange juice.  I will make a club for orange juice drinkers’

and then he made a powerpoint presentation about it.

Sigh.

Perspective.

Simple pleasures.

Beautiful Boo.

It will be OK.  You are right. All of you. He will be happy with whatever he gets on Christmas day even if the fucking cubby isn’t here.
…….and then he pissed all over the lounge.

watching a child fall asleep?

I am sitting on the lounge, surrounded by toys and the contents of a chest of drawers, a tower of CD’s precariously perched on the side of the TV cabinet. The laptop in front of me, my legs swung over the side, some crap on the TV, the disco ball spinning and throwing its coloured lights all over the shit and mustard stained walls.

I look over the top of my laptop and see Boo. Laying across his bed his eyes darting and closing, darting and closing, his leg hanging over the side.

He is nearly there. Nearly there.

I stop typing lest the sound disturb him.

He looks over at me.

I start typing again.

His eyes follow the patterns on the ceiling, down the walls. Yellow, blue, green, soft muted red. I remember teaching him these colours. I remember when he first showed me ‘green’, I remember his confusion and meltdown over the word ‘orange’. A food and a colour. Bastards.

His eyes close. 10pm? Really?

He fights it. His eyes fly open, close, open.

He shakes his head. But he can’t fight it. It is engulfing him. His eyes flutter. They roll. He flings his arm above his head. His jaw goes slack. They flutter again.

He sighs. That sigh of contentment. Of exhaustion. Of comfort.

He sits up suddenly. My heart in my mouth.

He rolls over. Leg now on the bed. Body and head wrapped in the blanket. Just like when I swaddled him as a baby.

It is my turn to sigh.

That beautiful, innocent face.

I wait. Wait till the rhythm of his breathing is constant.

I resist. Resist kissing that adorable face until I know he is asleep.

He is asleep. I kiss him and go to bed.

Stealing one more glance of that angelic face as I walk out the door.

***********

updated to add:

He got up an hour later and went to sleep at 4am.  Tried to recapture the warm fuzzy feeling from earlier to no avail…. 

Man, there is some crazy kinda stink coming out of my boy.

Like rotting flesh and playdoh.

Or is it communism? I don’t know but it smells like 40 kinds of awful.

We went to a cafe after school today. Boo was beside himself as it was a gluten free cafe and he got to have a soy icecream in a freaking CONE!! The kid was swooning.

We were in a booth. I was gulping my 4th sipping my latte, Moo chowing down on some cheesecake and Boo, well he was whispering sweet nothings to his icecream.

Then it hit me. Oh. My. God.

I looked a Moo, she looked at me and we decided it couldn’t be Boo cause that kid farts all the time and it had never smelt like that.

The smell was reminiscent of the caravan park that MPS’s brother put us in after driving 14 hours overnight to make arrangements for his mothers funeral. The caravan park next to the sewerage plant.

But worse.

We shot a dirty look at the toddler in the next booth.

Then in the car. That smell again.

We pull into the driveway, heads out the window gulping fresh air.

I send Boo to the toilet, when I realise that the smell, the smell that would send the hounds of hell whimpering into a corner is coming from his mouth.

He is burping up that smell.

I interrogate him. Fat lot of good that is. All I get is ‘I don’t know’ or echolalic response.

But then I spy it. The half eaten remnants of one of the coconut truffles I made on the weekend. And the mocha ones. And they were choc full of cream, cream cheese and sweetened condensed milk.

Aaaaaaah! Yes, I know that smell. The smell that used to cauterize my nose hairs before we took him off dairy at 8 months old. Good ol’ cow lactation.

The little bastard must have swiped them from the fridge.

Tomorrow P (his teacher) will be in hysterics.  Boo is going to his new classroom.  With his new teacher for next year.  She will get to sample first hand why it is not a good idea to let Boo eat something that is not part of his special diet.

Should I pack some air freshener?  Pine or lavender?

*************

Thankyou to all of you that have been scouring the stores for Hyper Dash for me. Or sending out your husbands *snigger*. Especially to those that parted with cold hard cash to ensure that Boo got his wish from Santa.  I am truly humbled that you would even think to look for me. I am truly speechless at the wonderfulness of my internet friends. 

And it is a rectangular box!!!  Yay!

And so did Boo.

I think…..

I slept so hard that:

I didn’t hear MPS snoring.

The doona was still tucked in when I woke.

I had an imprint of the crease in the pillowcase on my face for a freaking HOUR after I got up.

My ear was asleep.

That when the alarm went off I thought the light was on and it was sunshine coming through the window!  Through the still open blinds….. Good morning freaky neighbours!

And in my semi conscious state I flew out of bed to check on Boo and ran into the wardrobe door.

And it didn’t hurt.

And I was smiling.  And happy.  And thanking the internets for their sleep-you-little-bastard vibes.

So with a skip in my step and fabulous black knee high boots I kicked some serious arse at work.

And my biatch (AKA my boss) bought me coffee.  Cause I scared him yesterday.

Bwaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaa

***********

Don’t forget to vote for me as a hottie and best parenting blog *snort*.  The buttons are over there>>>>>

I am on page 4!  Whoot! 

Or he is reading my fucking blog.

Cause the bastard turned the night time shenanigans up a notch. He is now the official time keeper.

I knew that bragging last night about him staying in his room was a mistake.  I knew it would come and bite me in the arse.

I knew that Murphy hated me, that God and Allah and the Goddess were fucking with me.

But I just had to say that Boo was staying in his room.

And I was getting me some shut eye.

Last night Moo had her end of year break up.  Yeah, a Sunday night.

Fabulous idea.  IF you didn’t have to pick your kid (and a couple of ring ins) and work the next day.

So Mario-porn-star was going to pick them up.  And I was going to go to bed.  But I couldn’t sleep, cause I was terrified that he would fall asleep or forget to pick them up.

At 1am Boo woke up.  Full of freaking jumping beans.

At 1.15am he wanders out…

‘Mum!  It’s 1.15am’

‘Go back to bed Boo’

I lay in bed.  I have been up since six.

My eyes flutter…

‘Mummy!!!  It’s 1.30am!’

He is standing beside my bed.  I walk him back to his room…

Lay down.  The sound of a truck changing gears Mario-porn-star asleep beside me.  Of course he doesn’t hear a thing.

‘Hey Mummy!!!!  It’s 2.04am!’

‘Boo, it is time for sleep.  You need to stay in your room’

Boo in room, me passed out on top of the bedsheets.

‘Muuuuuuum! It’s 2.28 am!’

He is standing inches from my face.  I hold back the urge to smack him fair across the fucking room.

‘Boo back to bed.’

He has wet it.  And the bedding.  And himself.  Shit.

Strip the bed, change the doona (we have many cause he uses them as toilet paper) change his clothes, wack another nappy on him and beg him to go to sleep.

Boo room. Me somewhere in the vicinity of the bed.

‘Oooh Mummy it’s 2.45am!’

‘Boo if you don’t go to sleep right now I will hurt you and make it look like a bloody accident’

‘Can I watch Cat in the Hat?’

Yeah, I had that coming…..

I feel a hand on my face.  I am curled up at the end of the bed.

‘Hey Mummy!  It is 3am exactly!’

‘Boo are you psychic?  Are we going to win lotto?’

‘No’

‘Am I going to get any sleep tonight’

‘No’

So this continues until 6am.  When the alarm goes off.

Mario-porn-star finally gets up after much poking and punching cajoling and complains of being so tired.

I resist the urge to grab his balls in a vice grip and say ‘Yeah me too.’

Get everyone where they need to go.  3 trips freaky neighbours…. all before 9am.  And go to work.

S sees me and starts complaining he is tired.

He looks at my eyes.

I tell him to fuck off.

****************

as you can tell, I am really really tired. I have been awake since 6am yesterday morning. I haven’t come to visit you all today, cause in all honesty I have nothing in my head.  I tried a couple of times and all I could come up with was ‘thanks’, good post or something equally banal.  I am going to bed NOW cause the devil spawn is asleep and who knows how long that will last…. 

❤ my lovelies.  Your comments today have made me smile.