Sunday, 3 March 2013

Week 78- SuBo, sleeping on windpipes and Deal or No Deal marathons

Never wake a sleeping baby.

The exception to this rule has to be, ‘unless they are lying on your throat.’

Nancy’s sleep has gone tits up again.

And I feel that at 18 months, I can’t really whinge about it. She’s not a little baby anymore with us as new parents trying to work out what you do with a mewing, scrunched-up faced little newborn.

She talks. A lot. And can tell me a little bit of what she wants. Like cheese. And hat. And out.
The out being out of her cot at 2am in the morning.

I think I got a bit cocky.
And let’s be honest, no-one likes someone banging on about how they think they’ve got the sleeping thing nailed, especially if you’re a deprived parent yourself.

But she was going down brilliantly. Proper textbook stuff.
Bath. Story. Milk. Sleep.

She was even say 'sleep' herself, which was ace.
I was high fiving Ben as I emerged from her bedroom. Feeling like SuBo after BGT circa 2009.

But then it suddenly went a bit Gareth Gates, to keep with the tenuous reality TV theme.
I think she’s just got too big to go to sleep on me and then be transferred to the cot.

She started finishing her milk, lobbing the bottle like a chav at kicking out time at Ritzy’s, and then trying to climb off me and have a nosy round her room.
Often it’s up to two hours before she knackers herself out enough to go back to sleep.

And then, as if that isn’t bad enough, come 2am ish, she will wake up, stand up in her cot holding the bars, Prisoner Cell Block H style, and start shouting ‘out, out, out!’ and to be honest, I don’t have the will power to try and get her back into her own bed.
So in she comes with us.
To which she says, ‘hot, hot, hot’, which I can only assume is referring to the temperature of having three people in a small double bed, and not my greying/white oversized fat girl T-shirt.

I know the ‘I don’t get enough sleep’ chat is about as exciting as being made to watch back-to-back episodes of Deal or No Deal, but running on empty with a toddler feels almost worse than having broken sleep with a little baby.
Because then all I had to do was stay awake long enough to get the general gist of the Ryan Gosling blockbuster I was watching at mother and baby film club.

Now I have to enter the real world again and try and keep focused all day.
I'm not sure anyone mentioned all this in the baby books.

That you might end the day with another person sleeping on your windpipe.     

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