Sunday, May 10, 2009

Morning, sunshine!

It's been two and a half years since we had our little bundle of joy and in all that time, we've not had a good sleep in unless he was, as he was last night, up until 10:30 at a barbeque and so tired that he was moaning and covering his eyes at 9am begging for more sleep.

Anyway, so we take turns getting up and sleeping in and at least once a week we both, individually, get a nice lie in. This changed recently. One morning I woke up and he was insinuated beneath the duvet between us, as he is most mornings. How he gets there I often no longer know, I just wake up and there he is, eyeballs about an inch from mine and his mouth about two centimetres from my ear asking after the where-abouts of his aeroplane or perhaps his train. Then, after several tries he goes from one to the other shouting 'wake up' until one of us does.

Anyway, on this particular morning it was all different. Not at first it wasn't. There were the eyes, the request for the aeroplane... but I was tired. Very tired. I had been travelling for about 100 years and I was bushed. The frog was tired too. Very tired. He had been on his own with the spud for about 100 years and he was bushed. I heard myself say 'well, go and get your aeroplane, it's in your room' and the last thing I remember his his smiling little face as he backed down the bed, slid on to the floor and paddled off to his room.

The next thing I knew it was two hours later and there was an almighty crash. I looked at the clock and I'm not quite sure how I got into the livingroom but telekenesis may have been involved. There he was, looking guilty as hell with one of our remote controls lying on the floor, it's guts lolling onto the rug. I took inventory and it was, frankly, amazing. There were lines of cars marshalled on each arm of the sofa. His room was upside down but the rest of the flat was remarkable.

I breathed deeply and happily and for one blissful, mad second I thought 'Oh my, this is great, now we don't have to get up for him every morning.

Of course, two seconds later I realised that down this road lies not only madness but a kitchen swimming in spilled juice, smashed glasses, overflowing baths and lord knows what else. The spud being the spud, having mornings free from parents would be a license to hunt down any and all things forbidden and stack chairs and stools and cushions until they could be reached and dragged down, hopefully before the towers of furniture fall and land said toddler on his tushie. Or worse.

So, we truck on much as before, getting up in the morning and staving off, day by day, the morning we wake up and the flat is sailing down the middle of our street on a tide of tap water.


Lisa (Jonny's Mommy) said...

Oh, dear Lord...that would be scary. My kid would probably be down the street playing in someone's backyard by the time I woke up. He is that crafty and mischeivious these days. look I can't even spell that word. His antics have zapped my poor little brain cells. Dear God, have mercy. :-)

DJ Kirkby said...

I have never been brave enough to stay in bed, tired enough yes, but somehow I have always made it to the sofa before falling into a light doze from which N3S happily wakes me hundreds of hour. Not sure the sofa makes N3S or the house any safer but it makes me feel secure enough to doze minute by interrupted minute. Oh and we keep the front door locked and the key hidden up high.

Michelle said...

And they do know that they are more free than ever with both parents asleep!

Jen said...

That would not work at all here. My mom got the bright idea today to have Dylan "measuring" water and pouring it into containers. WTH? I was home 2 minutes with him, and the hallway floor, bathroom floor, his pants, and my socks were soaked. I shudder to think what would happen in 2 hours!

Helen said...

Basic rule of thumb - if you get 1 hour of peace and quiet, and it only takes 15 minutes to clean up afterward, you're ahead by 45 minutes. This logic applies to sleeping in, taking a hot bath, or getting some work done.

But yeah, some days I also wonder if our kids are going to destroy the place when I'm not looking.

Maternal Tales said...

Crikey - that was a close escape I'd say! I had to hold my breath when I read the bit about the loud crash. Have recently had two trips to A&E with little ones so I'm glad for you that nothing awful happened. It has been known for me to be so exhausted int he morning that I've just let the kiddies play by themselves - but my 2 and a half year old is chaperoned by her 4 and a half year old sister, so it's normally ok (just about). I normally find dens have been made with chairs and blankets. As for a lie in - I still drema about them. Annoyingly, husband is away so much that when he is as home he wants us all to get up together so we can do things 'en famille'. One day I'll get a lie in!!

Sparx said...

Lisa - yeah, your one is an independent little tyke!

DJ - I don't think I'll have the guts to do it again either really.

Michelle - I know, it's scary!

Jen - ha! we've done that exercise but only in THE GARDEN!! Or the bathtub. Heaven forfend that sort of disaster in the house.

Helen - I like the math... it's very tempting but I just think about him jumping on the sofa and landing face-first on the spikey end of a toy airplane or something heinous... gives me restless nights now!

Maternal Tales - twice to A&E, god, I'd have been a mess... You need to work on those lie-ins though, even if it's only one a week it makes a big difference, although I find myself looking forward to mine all week!

Helen + ilana = Hi said...

To quote a frog - though not your frog - Ah yes I remember it well!

By 3 Hair One had sussed out that mornings were about food. He'd get his own cereal and eat that. When Hair Two arrived he'd pull out a second bowl, refill 'em both and they'd chow down. When The Mench appeared to start the coffee a third bowl would magically appear. I usually arrived just in time to sweep cereal shavings from the floor and wipe up puddles of milk.

But I got to sleep in (ish)

Word Verification
imple - the tiny smile on your toddler's face when he explains in tragic detail just how the cat tripped and the bowl just felled down........on its head.