Wednesday 10 August 2016
Whether you’re having too much (ha!), not enough or trying to find the balance, the ‘s’ word has suddenly become a big deal. Bigger than when I was a hormone fuelled teenager, alcohol filled student or even newly wed…
Nearly six months in this role as mum, and sleep is the only ‘s’ word on my mind. So much so that its becoming a tradeable commodity in our house. I find myself offering Mark the world for a lie in. I’ve tried bartering with Ethan too but he drives a much harder bargain than a sausage sarnie.
Our (not so little) little man is now in his own room. An achievement that, for three nights, I was pretty pleased with. Then night four brought a new torturous requirement of at least one feed an hour. You say hungry baby. I say sleep torture. Literally every time I’d completed the – feed, cuddle, back in his cot, back in my bed, close my eyes – routine the monitor buzzed back to life with a new little whine. By 4am, with less than an hour of sleep under my belt, I had to enlist the hubby’s help.
Waking up I had that familiar feeling. What was it? Ah yes, a hangover like I’d been hit by a bus. Minus the enjoyable bit that comes pre-hangover. My eyes felt like they’d been sandpapered, my head stomped on and my body incapable of moving from bed. I can see why sleep deprivation may be used as a torture technique. If there was information I could have surrendered for a snooze, believe me, I’d have given it up happily.
Yet, as we dealt with the morning nappy change, I discovered that (despite feeling like I had it worse than the nappy I was removing) being a mum has given me magic powers. Powers that mean I still can laugh and smile with my baby. Magic that has me crawling around on the floor with him or flinging him up in the air. Powers that overcome the tiredness of less than three hours sleep to make tasty food for us all. This mum thing is a bloody miracle if you ask me.
It’s just a shame the patience that comes with these magic powers doesn’t extend to the dog. Especially when he rips Ethan’s foam floor squares to shreds when left downstairs alone for the time it takes me to change a nappy…