I love my boys more than they could ever and will ever know.
Except for bedtime at the minute.
The pair of them have me driven demented and I could cheerfully chuck them down the stairs.
Let’s take tonight for example.
Should have realised it was all going to go tits up when I lifted the toddler out of the bath and felt something land on my foot.
It was a massive turd.
Then he ran away naked before I had chance to wipe his bum. Turd in the bed.
Not a good start.
It got better as when we were having milk and snuggle time with the toddler and the baby, baby boy fell asleep easily. Pulled himself off the boob and was out for the count.
Until I put him in his cot. And that 3 minute micronap means he is still going strong over an hour later.
Probably a good job he isn’t asleep mind as the Toddler, who has been in his room for the past 30 minutes would definitely have woken him.
I always liked the idea of someone shouting my name adoringly, having a legion of fans and being famous.
Then I had a toddler with a stubborn streak and I’m telling you, it’s not all its cracked up to be. Kimmy K I salute you…..
“Muuuuummmmeeee come and sleep in my bed”
On repeat. Reaching a crescendo as I am managing to get the baby’s eyes to close.
Let’s ignore the fact that he is set up with enough toys to open a toy shop and instructions that I will be in as soon as the
damn baby is asleep.
Not good enough.
He has to shout and shout.
Until the baby joins in.
And then, I’m not proud to say this, mummy joins in with the shouting. Huffing and puffing as I have to put the baby down and shouting at the toddler to “GET BACK IN THE BED”.
Not making for a restful bedtime routine as advised by those oh so knowledgeable super nannies. Who don’t have kids. Or have to deal with the frustration of doing it every day.
On the 8th time in as many minutes of catapulting the toddler back into his bed and rushing back to pick the baby back up.
Well I too felt like sobbing and joining in with my boys.
You see, I crave that time to myself at night. Chance to do what I want to do. Chance to watch tv without a little person demanding that I put Planes on. And having a baby who wakes through the night means that I need to go to bed at a reasonable hour to be on form for the toddler the next day.
Watching the minutes tick by with two little boys, both crying at this point, both determined not to give in, eating into MY time to relax makes me frustrated to say the least.
It’s a viscious circle. As I get more wound up by them not going to sleep the less likely they are to go to sleep.
What makes it more difficult these days is that there are two of them, and as it stands only one of me. Being in the UK away from the husband also means I don’t have the back up of daddy.
Baby Boys crying reaching a crescendo I shout to the toddler to let me get the Baby to sleep and I will come lie with him – I promise.
Sit on the edge of the bed and take those big shuddery, sobbing, breaths to calm down. Shove my nipple back in his face and stare down at those little eyes staring so trustingly at me. Relish the moment. Actually start to relax, stroke his little cheek and remember back to when the terror was this small. Realise that they aren’t small forever and of course, miracles start to happen and those little eyes flutter shut. And stay shut. Hear another little voice shout mummy again.
Do the baby sleeping shuffle dance, you know, jigging and swaying them down in the cot? Hold my breath waiting to see whether his eyes stay closed and creep to the Toddlers bed.
Feel Zen like.
Enter THE TODDLER TERROR.
Who isn’t being a terror, is lying in his bed and pulling the duvet back for you to climb in to snuggle. To talk about his day. To tell you that he chopped mushrooms. To remind you he pooed on your foot. To tell you that trains sat choo choo and that he drove the fire engine that said wooooowooooo.
At that point it doesn’t matter that it’s only an hour until I want to go to bed, I remembered something I read long ago that said
Mummy didn’t come when I asked for a cuddle so I stopped asking
I don’t want that to happen, so a sweep of the hair and a gentle kiss on his forehead I remind myself he is still my baby. Tell him I love him and then night night sweet dreams before I sneak for my me time.
Before hearing a massive thud as the little horror catapults poor Dusty Krapper (the way he says Dusty Krophopper) down the stairs. Naughty boy.
He is not asleep. Nor has any intention of going to sleep.
And of course now the Baby is awake.
Me time abolished……my temper is rising….blood boiling…..And to be honest, all thoughts of cuddles forgotten as I thunder back up the stairs to put the pair of them BACK TO BED!