The Tale of Two Bad Nights

I am tired.  So very, very tired.

Last night we had the joy of sharing our bed with the boy as J had tried to get him to sleep wee – our desperate final attempt to help him stop bedwetting.  The theory is that they stay sort of asleep whilst having a wee, we snuggle them back into bed, and hey presto dry bed in the morning and we’ve all had a lovely night’s sleep.

It didn’t quite work as planned, J went in, the boy had a wee, but in the process he woke up properly, J put him into bed.  The boy got out.  I put him into bed, gently kissing his brow and whispering soporific words (whilst my brain shrieked “Just SLEEP, please for the love of all that is holy, SLEEP”).  The boy got out.  J went in, tried to get into toddler bed with boy.  Failed.  He settled instead on lying on the floor and pretending to sleep.  The boy just stared at him, in the eerie, big eyed way kids do when the lights are out.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should point out that by this time I was happily off in the land of nod, being the good and supportive wife I am.

After maybe an hour of being stared at J gave in and they both shuffled into our bed.

Now, it isn’t that the boy was particularly fidgety or talkative during the night, in fact the boy had to wake J to stop him pushing him out of bed, but I never sleep well if the kids are in bed with us.  I remember waking at one point in a panic that J had somehow squashed the girl as I could only find him and the boy.  “She’s in her bed” he hissed at me, no doubt pleased I’d woken him, especially after I’d been so supportive with the earlier sleep inducing efforts and he’d also already been woken by the boy dangling off the side of the bed.

And of course, as soon as there’s even a slight lightening in the sky the boy is wide awake, “I’m NOT sleepy” whilst J and I moan that we are, so could he PLEASE. BE. QUIET!

Raised voices set the girl off and so in she comes too.  The inevitable fighting starts as soon as they are together and yay, another day is upon us.

None of last night’s events were helped by the fact that the night before last the girl had a nightmare about Beatrix Potter’s Mr Tod being in her bed, when we went to her we realised she had a fever and so brought her into our room to calm down.  Not long after, we all got up again as she’d thrown up all over the bed.  And all over me.  Thankfully her temperature did drop after that, so much so that I woke in a terrified panic thinking she’d died (she is near silent in sleep).  As I say, I don’t sleep well with the kids in our bed.

Nor were last nights events helped by the half bottle of red wine I’d consumed to console myself about the previous night’s poor sleep.  Tonight perhaps I should move onto the vodka.

via Daily Post: Eerie


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