Basically the way the game is played, is that you are a little more stressed/exhausted than usual. You are trying to get kids ready for bed, all the time while keeping an eye on the digital clock above the oven, as it flashes the minutes in large red letters.
Digital letters have never looked so alluring and sexy!
I know it is bad karma to wish for time to pass. But when you are wanting kids in bed, and some time to yourself that does not involve the word “mommy” being used in a whiny voice, poo that is not yours and spilt milk, the minutes they cannot move fast enough.
I love that clock – I shout BINGO as soon as it says 19h30 (I shout it inside my head, I do not want to make the kids think I am any stranger than I already am)!
If your kids are young you can shout it earlier depending on when you have decided that “Fek I have had enough of this, and these munchkins can go to right sleep now before I kill them!!” So time is flexible at this point.
Older kids can tell time so once they are around 6 thistechnique of bending time gets more tricky. Unfortunately you only need one who can tell the time to spoil the entire thing for everyone. This reason should be motivation enough for not training kids to tell time until they are about 11 or 15!
Yes, you can set the clocks forward, but odds are you will forget as soon as kids are in bed, and you have finished the second bottle of wine, and then you are pretty stuffed the next day as you are then never on time for anything! It’s a good idea but lacks in application.
Background: Kennith had been away for a week, and two weekends. Added to that I started a new job on Monday. The kids started of a new school year. Isabelle was having a reaction to the 18 month jabs I had done for her last week. I get anxious when Kennith is away – like really! Combination = total stressed out me.
Sunday afternoon Kennith got home. We did dinner and then started aiming the kids to bed. There was the usual chaos. Georgia was being Georgia. I was at the juncture where our three child family was about to become a two child family with the mom at Polsmoor.
Got kids into thier beds – I might have thrown them a bit….but I aimed them towards where there were pillows and a duvet, so that must count for something.
I am doing stuff, Kennith is lying on the bed with his iPhone – one of the kids cries/needs a bum wipe or something – Kennith chirps “just because I am home doesn’t mean I am on child duty right?”
What do you think I am thinking right now? It’s not “I heart you” right now, that is for free. He has been away for two weekends. I don’t care where he was, he wasn’t here and that counts as a holiday in my book.
I got in to bed around 23h30 and fell asleep after less than a paragraph of my book.
Isabelle started to moan, and I thought I would leave her and she would settle and then everyone would be asleep. Happy days.
Then I listened and thought, well I should just go in and check on her to make sure her leg is not caught in the cot bars, or she has poo’d so much her nappy is leaking it all over her cot bedding – both of which has occurred. So guilt got me out of bed, and I went down the passage to check on her.
If I settle her, she will go to sleep and then I can sleep, and that was my motivation and I figured, I do this one and we are sorted. Right? Not so much.
I go and settle her and head back to bed. As I start to doze, I hear her moan again.
Again I think, should I leave her to sort it out or should I go in and just make sure she is fine, so she can go to sleep and I can enter Nirvana?
I go in and settle her. She is sort of half sleeping half awake, and moaning, which is not a good sign. But I pat her, cover her with a blanket, and exit the room.
The same process then repeats itself about five more times until about 1am. By around this point I have lost what ever was left of my sense of humour.
Just after 1am, Kennith hears her for the first time, jumps out of bed, stumbles down the passage, comforts her and falls back into bed.
I decided to lie there and let him, I should have stopped him as I had just done that, but I figured he could get this one, I would get the next dozen or so.
The balance of Monday morning was the exact same routine, over and over again until around 5am.
At that point she escalated the moaning to screaming. I was past caring for her or being concerned for her at this point. I was trying to work out how many Voyager miles it would take for me to go to China. Not because I wanted to specifically go to China, I just did not want to be here anymore.
Kennith woke up, I suggested we fetch Isabelle and put her in our bed. He said no.
Only because I was so sleep deprived at this point, I was past reasoning, and hoped/fantasized/seen once in a movie, that a couple slept with their baby in the bed.
Kennith said no, and was about to launch into a lecture about the evils of children sleeping in their parents bed, and the bad example it sets, and global warming and why Kim Kardashian is a great person to follow on Twitter.
I switched off (from him – I could still hear Isabelle clearly), rolled on my side, and continued to tighten the jaw muscles to see if I could actually snap off a molar.
Kennith woke up, he suggested we fetch Isabelle and put her in our bed. I said that is a great idea. He fetched her.
She did however continue to moan and thrash around the bed, and kick me and stick her fingers in my eye. Fabulous if this is your thing, not so good if you are hoping for a slither of sleep.
Kennith managed to go back to sleep, albeit for a few minutes.
I would like to say that I was really happy for him, as he has been travelling and had been away, and really needed sleep. But I was slightly less than charitable in my thoughts.
Isabelle continued to moan and be up for most-likely-to-be-packed-in-a-cardboard-box-and-given-to-gypseys.
This went on all morning – of the little bit that was left.
Eventually I picked her up, put her in the passage and called loudly/screamed down the passage: “Pepe, please come and get her, else I am going to do something with her that I am going to regret!”
It sounded nicer that what I was thinking which was: “Pepe, come and get this fekn child!” But I know Pepe knows Child Services telephone number so I am careful what I say around her some times.
Pepe fetched Isabelle.
I had a shower. I dressed. Fortunately my wardrobe is jean pant with a shirt and black shoes, so that often does not take much brain power. Tried to drink a cup of tea which tasted like crap – because my taste buds were not functioning.
It felt like a sheep and peed in my eyes. Why a sheep? I don’t know, it just felt like livestock has been urinating in my eyes, and sheep just seemed the most likely to get up to that sort of nonsense.
Shuttled kids into the car. Said good bye to Pepe and Isabelle and then tried to get through the next 10 hours feeling like dog crap on a pair of grasshopper shoes. It was a very long day, and all I could think about was sleeping.
I seriously do not know how mothers function who do this for several days at a trot. I often hear from moms who have not had a full night sleep since Julius did woodwork, and I am totally flabbergasted at how they function.
One night of this and I was ready to say or do anything just to get some sleep. Yes, it was me on the grassy knoll – it was me, now leave me alone and let me sleep.
I still do not know what was wrong with Isabelle. For fear of repeating the same routine last night I packed her in her cot with a healthy dose of Nurofen for kids.
I slept like the dead last night, and woke up this morning feeling a lot saner than yesterday, and almost refreshed. Isabelle also looks like she is back to her chipper self. Monkey!