So last week I famously (famous in my own head, anyway) posted about how I’d banned TV for The Boy during the week. Today I take it all back as we sit, slumped, on the sofa binge watching “Puff and Wock” – or Puffin Rock to you and I.
Last night was a bitch of a night. The girl, despite being only two months old, slept soundly, but The Boy was yoyo-ing between his bed and ours, whingeing, wriggling, crying and chatting. Eventually, after 10+ wake ups we found a solution in Calpol and a ‘warm water bottle, not a hot water bottle, just a warm water bottle my Mummy’ (he knows what he wants, this Boy of mine) but the damage was done. We’re all shattered today. Except the baby who is napping happily between my bosoms as I type.
If I had thought about sleep before the baby arrived – and believe me, after my experiences with The Boy as a newborn, I was trying very hard not to think about it – I would never have imagined that it would still be my Boy causing all the wake ups whilst the newborn slept through, or at the worst woke once in the night, from only 8 days old!
In fact, far from imagining it, I wouldn’t even have believed it possible. I thought other mums who said this were either lying through their smug teeth or kindly trying to reassure me that it wouldn’t go on forever, but it was nearly a year before he slept through and, once it happened, didn’t happen again for over a month. Tease!
Anyway. The Girl sleeps, The Boy doesn’t and today we snuggle on the sofa, although I suspect a run to Waitrose might be in order later to stock up on chocolate. How else is a mum to self-medicate?
PS – how come those dozy puffin bastards get to sleep and we don’t? Everything is making me grumpy today.