It has been one year, 11 months and four days since my last blogpost about sleep. This will be my sixth, and probably last, sleep log.
I spotted in my drafts folder that I had started a post called “Big Boy Bed!” in August 2013 but clearly I had even bored myself with the topic at that stage because I think I only typed one line and then I abandoned it.
In October 2012, I brought you “A Triumphant Post about Sleeping Through the Night” which really was an all-singing, all-dancing exercise in I Told You So and I revelled in it. But die-hard fans (all one of me) will know that a mere three months later I was back to report that things had in fact gone tits up again. But do you know what? It was fine. And it’s been fine since. We are fine. We are not tired.
Just to be crystal, eye-wateringly clear, no one in this house is sleeping through the night. Not the 3 and a half year old. Not the 35 year old. Not the 37 year old. But it’s cool. It’s all business as bleedin usual actually. Here’s what happened in the meantime.
- We had a summer holiday where small boy slept on a mattress on the ground for a month because there was no cot.
- When we got home, we just dismantled to cot and stuck him into a regular sized bed. Because cots are a whole heap of shite anyway
- Suddenly we found ourselves spending a lot of time in a single bed beside a small boy.
- Then we found ourselves just sleeping in the single bed on our own while the small boy joined the remaining double bed member in the middle of the night and we all got a good night’s sleep.
- Then, for some inexplicable, crazy-assed reason, we went through a period of three in a bed. This was stupid. 3 is not the magic number. 3 is the number that finds me teetering on the mattress edge, getting head-butted or kicked in the crotch, while the two men snore their respective heads off. This was short-lived so we reverted to the previous single bed swappage. Occasionally we seem to forget what a monumentally stupid idea 3 in the bed is, and we repeat it. And then remember again.
- One night, the small boy got a notion that he wanted to sleep in “granny’s bed”, which is the double bed in the spare room. “Sure fuck it, why not?”, I thought. He slept 12 hours straight. And the next night. And the next night.
- The he started waking up around midnight. Solution? Simples. It’s a double bed, Sherlock. We tag team, sliding in beside him and everyone is straight back to sleep. The tag team motto used to be “you’re only ever one night away from a full night’s sleep”. The new motto is “8 hours sleep? What the fuck are you moaning about?”
There still isn’t any sleeping through the night, whatever that is. This works for us. The eye twitching, head-thumping, neck-crick-causing, rage-inducing tiredness is a thing very firmly in our distant past. But waking is still normal. It’s all normal. I am not tired.
Plus – and this is a very big plus – sometimes there is nothing as absolutely delicious as snuggling up to a warm, cuddly, heavy breathing ball of toddler.
This post is dedicated to my commenter of the year 2014, Catherine and lovely blogger Tracey of Love of Living. Keep the faith, ladies!