Spoken too soon

Days after my last proclamation about my new morning regime, it all came crashing down!!!!
Sort of, not entirely, but drama gets you interested until it’s ruined, like this.

Our littlest has just turned two and as a result of either his cleft palate correction surgery, or him being a vindictive swine, his breathing isn’t great at night, resulting in him STILL being in his cot in our room.

He goes to bed fine, although with more coaxing and patting than I’d like at this stage, but he goes to sleep, and that’s him usually for a good while.

Typically, between 12-1 he’ll surface and mither until he’s in with us. I might manage to settle him in his bed but that doesn’t usually last long before he’s up again, and we need our precious nuggets of sleep.

It would brilliant if he went with the romantic notion of snuggling in and being out for the remainder of the night, but oh no, HE’S the Bed Daddy, and he runs a very tight ship. We have to lie in a quite specific configuration so as not to trigger his “rage”. The “rage” is inspired by the way cults work, or Marines are straining, by breaking individuals down and destabilising their expectations of what they’re capable of. He does this by shouting and pointing until we get it right. Owing to his delayed speech he doesn’t employ any actual words to make it easier, he just shouts. As soon as we get it right he’ll snuggle in, making minor adjustments; making sure he’s in the crook of Mummy’s arm, that I’m facing the right way, and holding/not holding his leg as would be fitting the specific circumstance. All the changes are triggered by grunts but he gets the job done. Once he’s asleep he’ll probably travel around the bed in a disturbed slumber, seeking an apparently ever evasive degree of comfort which as typically moved on by the time he conceives of it.

He’ll often wake up a bunch more times to briefly shout inexplicably and so keeping him asleep is a major priority.

Which bring me to the day it went awry.

My watch was vibrating and jolting me from my slumber, which is never a nice surprise, block him with a pillow and sneak out.

Quite a few times it started off well. I’d managed to get set up downstairs with coffee and music in place and was getting some writing down. Creaking from upstairs started occurring, with footsteps getting closer until a screeching tired toddler was deposited in front of me before the carrier spirited herself back off to bed.

Sometimes I didn’t even get that far.

I’d hear him unsettled and marauding as I passed the bedroom and try to fake my return to bed. The problem with this is that my brain started getting sleepy and my early start was lost, and starting to look unworkable, and it was rubbish!

My sacrifice of sleep to facilitate some ME time was being hijacked and I could feel my frustration rising…

This went for a couple of weeks, I started getting comfortable with the sleep and not being exhausted on purpose, and the laziness snuck in.

Thankfully a call from a friend with thoughts on a short script I’m writing for him helped reignite the fire, so I set my alarm for 5:20 instead, and, fingers crossed, it’s started working again.


I need to put more opportunities to write these nonsense bits that are barely seen to use. I convinced myself that my every murmurance must be epic, but if it’s only a thought or an idea, then I need to just bang it out. Although I’ve definitely said it before…
Enough with the self-reflection.

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