Weeks can go by and a full 8 hours of sleep becomes the average norm and then suddenly out of nowhere your youngsters throw you a curve ball, pulling you from a warm slumber. Now that I have two little ones it seems they want to play ‘sleep relay ‘with mommy!
Firstly Wee One starts up a 3:30 ‘party hour’, I try and nestle him in our bed thinking that he will bask in the parental love, turn over and return to Boboland, but no…. playing with the duvet is far more fun! Eventually hubby pears at me with one eye and mumbles….”Is this suppose to be working?” Obviously not! Whip Wee One back to his cot and eventually feed him – if he is not cold, he must be hungry…. joy, his eyes pull close and I gently place him back into his cot. Stumble back to bed, wrap myself up like a burrito and fall back to sleep.
“Maaarmeeee I need a weeeee weeeee!” It’s Eldest.
Hubby doesn’t stir and I know that I am back up to bat, taking one for the team.
Sleep deprivation turns a normally coherent person to sound like a drunk, ones eyes glaze over when you sit still for longer than two minutes and its as if God has pushed the slow replay button on your daily routine. Everything you do is slow and most of the time you actually forget what you were doing in the first place and have to start all over again!
Today my sleep deprivation caused me to be an unwilling shoplifter! I know! A life of crime! Not something I want to be doing here in SAFAland. Rushing through our local toy store, buying birthday presents for Eldest, I find the milk formula brand which Wee One is drinking and apparently will be in short supply so I load up a 1.8kg can. Now shopping with a pram is difficult especially when it is a trolley you need so I have balanced all I can off the handles and dump the 1.8kg can of milk formula in the “basket” under the pram. Looking at my watch I see I have just enough time to pick up Eldest and still feed Wee One fruity sludge. With packets in the boot of my car I start the long process of unclipping and clipping as I get Wee One out of the pram and into his car seat. Now, I insisted on state of the art Italian pram which takes a degree to learn how to fold but I convinced Hubby that it was the Rolls Royce of prams and that it would last us two children. Why then could I not get the silly thing to fold? I mumble, toss in a few swear words for good measure and realise that I have walked out the shop without paying for said huge can of formula milk!
Fume! Seethe! Swear! Panic!
Toss contents of nappy bag out in boot trying to find the right receipt to phone the shop before they have security hunting me down. Speak to the manager, apologise profusely! Phone Hubby and ask him to pick up Eldest while unclipping and clipping Wee One back into pram, (our ‘getaway’ vehicle), run off to the Information Desk and ask for extended time on my already paid parking ticket and start speed walking to the scene of the crime.
I can walk fast – in fact I look like a marathon walker – except not very lithe and toned, catching a glimpse of myself in a shop window I see that although I am in a flap over my crime so is my entire body! Boobs, tum and bum have got a jiggle going on and Wee One sensing the urgency of his mothers stroll holds onto the sides of the pram trying to steady himself, baby curls whipping back into the wind and sucking ferociously on his dummy.
I apologise for my crime and hand over my credit card which will once again make me an honest woman. While I wait for the transaction to go through the Security Guard, (who must have been on his loo break when I left previously), was positioned at the door in combat stance and giving me ‘the stare’. Although the manageress is smiling at me and praising me for my honesty I have a suspicion that Security Guard was given the riot act due to my confession.
Technology lets you down when you need it most and this was the moment it was going to let me wallow a bit longer in my disgrace. My credit card transaction would not go through as their machines were ‘offline’. I could have left the milk and gone home but that would have been the equivalent to a guilty plea, so I stood my ground and waited for the buzz of the machine that would indicate my vindication… It came… 15 minutes later.
I made it home in time to welcome Eldest from his day of educational learning and watch Hubby race off to a very important executive meeting which he had to delay due to his delinquent wife’s faux pas.
With Eldest settled at the lunch table and Wee One in his highchair I produce a BIG SURPRISE! Eldest has been whining for weeks for a board game, now don’t get me wrong I don’t normally indulge this form of nagging, but I decided that it would be educational for my child’s development and encourage family time. I selected a board game which I felt would form a basis for his numerical understanding, the concept was fun and tactile which would fire the imagination and it had a ‘spinner’ which is way more fun than dice. With the flair of a game show hostess I produce the box to my child’s eager, beaming little face. Visions of hugs, kisses and all over excitement start flashing in my head…..
“Awwww you got the wrong one!”
Breath in…. 2;3;4; and out…. 2;3;4….