Thursday 22 September 2016
…because no-one has the energy to think of clever blog titles on three hours sleep.
Every time I make the, ridiculously naive, assumption that the lack of sleep can’t get any worse, it does. Hence the several peaceful weeks of radio (blog) silence you’ve enjoyed.
Our little man got crawling at the beginning of August. He spent weeks in a permanent downward dog, keen to get moving but lacking the strength. Then one Friday afternoon something just clicked and off he went. It is somewhat surprising that he carried on going given that my immediate reaction (jumping up off the sofa and cheering/shouting) scared the life out of him. My cheering was misguided. I was made up that his determination and perseverance had paid off but I was actually cheering at the prospect of sleep. Everyone had promised me that once he got moving it would make him sleep better. Everyone lied.
Instead of burning all his energy crawling the length and breadth of the house he has become some kind of super human who can function perfectly with no shut eye.
The crawling was hastily followed by an unstoppable desire to get up on his feet. This crazy determination means he is now doing pull ups on every piece of furniture we own and starting to cruise around the living room clinging on for dear life, which brings a whole new set of baby proofing problems due to the number of breakables on our coffee table…
So while I chase him aimlessly around the living room (which I keep saying we desperately need to baby proof but am far too tired to actually baby proof) I burn what little energy I do have from an hour or two of sleep snatched here and there and he just keeps on going. By the time his dad gets in from work I’m laid out on the living room floor resigned to the fact I have become a baby climbing frame. Like the living comparison between the bunny powered by Duracell (him) and the bog standard Tesco’s own brand battery (me).
Speaking of which, I’ve managed to contain him temporarily in his Jumperoo, which even sounds like it’s struggling to keep up with him. In reality the batteries are running out but its usually bouncy tune sounds exactly how I feel. Like it’s running out of juice and desperate for a rest.
I am desperately clinging to three bulging white dots in his upper gum, trying to convince myself that as soon as these new teeth manage to cut through the gum he will, by some miracle, start sleeping through the night. Or even just go back to letting me manage more than half an hour sleep at a time.
When I do maybe you’ll get a more easily readable blog post. Or at least a jazzier title…