There’s me thinking I had got away with the clocks going back without too much disruption… the kids only woke up 15 mins earlier than usual that morning. RESULT right? Wrong.
As the day unfolded, so did the chaos and confusion. Their untimely hunger caught me off guard. And then there was an awkward 2 hour nap. ‘A’ hasn’t napped since she turned 2 and ‘J’ never naps in the afternoon. I was so shattered myself that i thought I would leave them to it… until 5pm. BIG MISTAKE.
I didn’t realise how big a mistake straight away. They still had dinner and went to bed on time.
The next morning Baby ‘J’ woke up screaming. It sounded as if he was distressed or in pain. In my mind, I jumped up straight away but my body didn’t join in. I could hear him crying but I just couldn’t move or open my eyes, my back felt like it was broken.
I knew what the problem was. Why my body wasn’t functioning.
IT WAS TOO DAMN EARLY!
Then I heard the most awful sound that can be heard at 4AM.
Followed by a cheery “Good Morning Mummy!”
I was still stuck in log mode. I just remember whimpering “NO, NO, NO – Get her out!”
By some miracle, daddy actually heard the carnage, got up and took them both out of the room. My hero. Unfortunately, though he had to go to work. And I was left to somehow find the energy to feed and parent two munchkins who were bouncing off the walls.
Someone left a saucepan full of (cold) water on the table, which obviously ended up on the floor, under the sofa all over baby and through the rug. I was not in the best state to be dealing with kind of sh*t. I still couldn’t even see properly. I managed to use up a whole kitchen roll before deciding that the mop might be better. I thought the best way to dry the rug would be to chuck it in the BATH?!!
I changed the baby, looked around and then had a melt down. This day could not continue. I somehow managed to slide under the duvet and sleep through an hour of ‘A’ jumping on my legs and baby ‘J’ shouting at her from his cot. I felt bad. But it had to be done. I had reached that point where the only thing that could help me was more sleep.
I woke up hearing the words “my fairy garden! my fairy garden!” I just thought she was watching TV. But I looked up and saw her holding…’my fairy garden’. She had found some of her birthday presents. Baby ‘J’ was standing in the cot with one half of the mobile that he must have snapped in frustration that his mother dared to be tired.
Feeling slightly more alert, I took them both in the living room and tried explaining to ‘A’ that the presents were for her birthday and why her birthday WAS NOT today. There were a lot of tears. At that point I just felt like them worlds’ biggest twat for simply being exhausted. The morning was rounded off nicely by baby ‘J’ pulling the bowl of left over porridge down off the table and all over himself. *sigh*
I promise kids, one of these days it will sink into my thick skull that:
The table is not an appropriate place to leave any object. The object will always be dragged onto either the floor or someones head.
I need to stay awake until 2033, if i’m going to be a proper parent.
Who knew an hour could make so much difference? How did it affect you?
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