There are times in life when everything seems rather wonderful; a little snippet or scene from life that is set out before you which makes you feel that warm glow of happiness and wonderment inside and you feel sorry for anyone who isn't you at that precise moment in time (they aren't that common but they do happen). Then there are times when it is 6.30 am on a Sunday morning and you are picking up cat shit from your baby's cot half an hour after you baby vacated it after an indecently bad night's sleep. At that time I wish with such heart felt conviction that I had waited ten years to have children and I was instead, still fast asleep in my warm bed waiting for the hangover to abate, or even better, on a holiday somewhere warm and luxurious where 6.30 am seems the most ridiculous time of the morning and would only be seen on the most special of occassions. I try not to be lacrimose, it is boring for a start, and secondly as my wonderful mother has so often revelled in informing me, 'it was your choice'. It was indeed. Although as K and I delighted in the idea of a small and desperately cute little version of ourselves coming into the world, it would have been hard to foresee a time when I would feel so tired I felt it it in my bones and our cat (who to be fair, doesn't have a cat flap fitted) would be so desperate for a crap he decided to make a herculean leap into a cot and defacate once safely inside. I was at least grateful for him missing the duvet. From his poo I then moved quickly onto a full nappy change for Ted and a bottom wipe for George. Without wishing to be too obvious, it was something of a crappy morning.
Still, the day recovered, as did I. K rewarded me with a sleep whilst he took them all down for breakfast and then treated me to breakfast in bed when I did eventually wake up to the dulcit tones of Ted having yet another melt down due to excessive tiredness. He seems to have been spending his many wakeful night hours creating an antedote to Medised (the genius medicine that was released many moons ago as a decongestant and more importantly to 'aid restful sleep'). This medicine is so powerful they have in recent years, banned it for children under 6. Although obviously I take little notice of their new warnings and rightfully so - Ted fights off the medicine's effect with ease. I am at a total loss where to go from here in order to save my sanity and get those valuable chunks of sleep back into my life. Although K has inadvertently hit upon one option - last night he got so pissed off with the noise he stormed in and shouted at him to go to sleep. I think Ted was so shocked he threw himself back onto his pillow and promptly shut up and fell asleep. It seems slightly extreme but I might give it a shot.
Not to be dull but will briefly touch upon the meter saga. Day Six and the card has still not arrived. I am actually rather enjoying the lovely engineers who come out to load up my gas. They are a total delight and very friendly. In fact as I write I am waiting for another to knock at the door. I shall quite miss them when the card turns up tomorrow. (It is coming via courier - I really do feel special.) And Ted has devised an exciting new game with the meter - slightly strangely he has fallen in love with watching the light on the meter go off. The game therefore entails finding an available adult, pushing them towards the under stairs cupboard door and grunting until it is opened and the light display turned on. He then stands stock still waiting for it to go off before repeating the process. Today he was so taken with it he ran off after I had turned it on, only to return with his thomas the tank engine cup so he could drink whilst watching. Man alive he will be beside himself when he discovers the cinema.
And lastly but not leastly, I actually went out on a Sunday night. It is highly unlike me. In fact I couldn't possibly tell you a time I last did it. But this was a very special occasion - the last of my sisters (there being five of us) and the youngest of the sisters finally got engaged last night. It is even more special as she has a big birthday today, her 30th, so it was lovely to see her so happy and full of excitement and to be part of it all. I won't moan about getting to bed at 11pm and being woken 3 hours later by you know who and I definitely won't tell her to wait five years until she is scooping shit out of a cot at 6.30am and see how happy she is then, because I am most definitely NOT MY MOTHER.
Bon Nuit. x