I really think I may actually go ‘insane in the brain’ fairly shortly…

Life really is a smug tosser sometimes. I predicted, did I not, only yesterday afternoon, that, due to OHs absence overnight, I’d end up having a bad nights sleep. However, even though this seems to happen with alarming frequency, hope always springs eternal. Perhaps, I always like to secretly hope, like a little child hoping for a bike at Christmas (but secretly knowing deep down he’s got some crappy encyclopaedia set) perhaps this night will be different. Perhaps, just for once, I’ll have a nice easy time of it. The boys will both settle quickly, they’ll really ENJOY sleeping for once, and, for the first time in three years, I’ll have an unbroken nights sleep.

Of course, it didn’t happen.


DB2 woke at 2am. Doing his usual ritual of cooing, slurping, gibbering, thrashing around…basically all the sounds under the sun to ensure that I was awake and getting more grumpy by the minute. This continued for an unmeasured period of time. Hours, it felt like. Drifting on and on in agonising horrid sleeplessness. Then DB1 crept in, whimpering about his lost dummy. (I wouldn’t mind so much, but it was quite clearly lying on his pillow, presumably beside where his head had been resting only minutes before. A quick usage of those glorious organs we call eyes might have revealed it to him in about a hundredth of the time he took to lurk noisily around in the hallway, before barging the bedroom door open with a bang and moping over to me.)
After this, DB2s merry murmurings took on a more plaintive tone. Wah. Was all I kept hearing for about an hour. Wah. Do you recall the song that OH made up about DB2? it was reminiscent of that. When it’s 4am, wah wah wah. When it’s 4:03am, wah wah wah. When its 4:05am, wah wah wah. And so on.

After several wah wah wahs, we regrettably entered the WAH WAH WAH territory. Which of course, inevitably sent DB1 back in again. Yes, apparently the dummy was lost again. This time to be found by his bedroom door, presumably where he’d just remembered to drop it before coming in to see me. Mind you, after three hours of dealing with Db2 by this point, dummy searching actually made a fairly welcome break.

The WAH WAH WAHs finally erupted into a rousing chorus of WAAAAAAHHH!! WAAAAHHHH!! WAAAAAAAHHH!!s before he finally nodded off at 6am. (not before I’d phoned OH, in floods of despairing and croaky tears, feeling like my head was about to explode). DB1 ran in at 6:05. Then talked for about 15 minutes. Then DB2 awoke at 6:45. I actually just wanted to shoot myself at this stage. I went downstairs and made breakfast instead. OHs text message, informing me that he felt tired too, and that we could ‘swap places’ if I liked (I’d love to see all of us surviving on a 20k salary…) didn’t go down too well. Tired is NOT being a bit restless in a hotel bed, OH.

Tired is bouncing a crying baby for hours when you’ve got the worst cold ever and your whole body is crying out for a break. Tired is when you have to hunker down on the floor and play with your toddler even though your eyes are actually falling shut mid sentence. Tired is not snapping when your toddler thinks it is hilarious to shove their dribbly, sticky hand repeatedly Into your face and shout ‘moose’. Tired is when you watch your toddler drop their juice all over the floor that you’ve just swept, then put their toys in the resulting puddle, claiming they are ‘swimming’. Resulting in cleaning floor and toys. That, my friend, is tired.

So we had a tv day. In fairness to me, I did attempt to soldier on with making salt dough tree decorations, though DB1 only seemed to want to consume them. Probably not best for his health, given they are 50% salt and covered in paint. Please, please, PLEASE for the love of god, the holy apostles, Jesus and all the other crew, please sleep tonight boys. Please. Or I might actually go mad.