I woke up with a child-induced hangover today. The kind where your head is pounding and you can’t open your eyes…because you possibly slept about 3 hours the night before? In five minute increments?
It’s with some hilarity that I recall my words to Jason the previous night: ‘can you just watch the kids for a little bit in the morning so I can get some cleaning and stuff done, and then you can go into the office for however long?’ Because today is a non-teaching day for him. Instead, when the clock struck the bright hour of 8.18am, I – having fed and coffee’d my brood – climbed BACK into bed for a nap.
Along with sleep thief number 1.
Sleep thief number 2, the Hen, who possibly woke the entire neighborhood with his extraordinary wailing from 4am to who knows when, was watching Wonderpets with his brother.
If ever there was a more invasive, more insipid theme song to listen to than Wonderpets, I’m not aware of it. In the wee hours of the dawn, when I’m either feeding a child or trying to get a child to sleep, all that runs through my mind is: ‘Wonderpets, Wonderpets, we’re on our way. To help a friend and save the day. We’re not too busy and we’re not too tough but when we work together we’ve got the right stuff.’
And I can’t get it out of my mind.
In the almost two weeks since we brought B3 home, Jason and I have had a sort of unspoken agreement. I handle the night – feeding, changing etc. And he gets up with the older two in the morning and tends to them. It was a fine arrangement for the first ten days because the littlest member of the family would eat and go back to sleep. Easy enough. It seemed dumb to wake Jason up just so he could change a diaper.
But now, the game has changed apparently. In addition to B3 fussing and crying from 12.30-4, the Hen woke up three times, the final time in what can only be described as some sort of holy night terror situation. He was screaming and writhing from bed to floor and there was nothing to do except watch the clock and think: ‘wow, I’m really not going to sleep at all tonight. Nope, really not. No, not at all.’
There was an icy reception for the Henners at breakfast today. I might have said something to the effect of: ‘you may not talk’ as he was yelling about something.
At 9.45am, after drifting in and out of slumber for an hour and a half, I stumbled downstairs and sent Jason upstairs. So he could nap/supervise the baby who was now sleeping….as if he hadn’t slept for two nights. Oh, right, he hadn’t.
‘Cleaning and stuff’….now there’s a laugh.