Sleep is a touchy subject with parents, especially parents of children aged 7 and below. And if these parents say it isn’t then they’re telling a big fat lie! My children’s night-life in this house is a VERY sore subject some days!

My 6yo was an awful sleeper from day one. Health implications and being born a bit underweight at 36 weeks didn’t help the nocturnal little monster either. I didn’t make a conscious decision to co-sleep but after 3 months of no sleep I couldn’t function anymore. Sleep was sleep. And boy did I need sleep.

He always preferred going to sleep on someone, preferably momma. He was a snuggler. He still is. I love that about him.

He goes through phases. From around 14 months old he would go to bed around 6.30pm and sleep until 8am with a few wake ups. Then he hit two and the wake ups were more frequent and a good 8 on the Tantrum Richter Scale. After a few months he settled and just woke a few times.

Add a CMP (cows milk protein) allergy into the mix too, that really messes with your children’s night-life (and yours!)

Then with the terrible three’s came night terrors. These are frightening and infuriating. There’s nothing worse than a flailing child who is crying hysterically for momma, but can’t see momma right next to him. After research though, we combatted these over a week and thankfully they became a rarity.

My 6yo now sleeps 6pm until 5.30am. The last few months he wakes anything from 3 times during the night upto 15 times. He shares a room with his younger brother, so this is a nightmare. I miss sleep.

My youngest, on the other hand has always slept alone from day one. I think a momma with a c-section wound, a wound drain, a catheter, and a six day old broken ankle didn’t give me, or him much choice. I’ll save that magical yet horrendous time of my life for a future blog post.

He loved his moses basket and he was no problem transitioning to a cot. The only problem was the effects of naps! They made him nocturnal, yet he couldn’t manage without one. It was a nightmare.

He enjoys sleeping. He doesn’t like people by him when he sleeps. As a baby he’d never let you rock him to sleep.

He used to sleep from 6pm until 8.30am. Those were the days! Now he’s up some mornings by 4.45am! Even 3.45am! And it doesn’t matter if he goes to bed at 6pm or 11pm, the child is up before 6am every single day. We average 5.30am the last few weeks.

My two boys share a room. They go to bed at the same time. They enjoy sharing. The only pitfall is that they wake each other up. Alot.

Some days I feel ok. Some days I feel like a zombie. Sleep deprivation is horrendous. It’s a cryable offence. I often wonder if anybody else feels this terrible?!

In my house we have a sensor. This sensor alerts my children whenever my butt hits the sofa, my dinner is ready, and when my head hits the pillow. This sensor is the bain of my life!

I get worried to exhale and get comfortable when I go to bed. I often lie on the edge of my bed, with my hair still in a topknot, just so I feel too uncomfortable to drop off to sleep properly – just so I can have ten minutes of peace. Then once I exhale and snuggle down the sensor kicks in “Mummyyyyy I’m scared! I want you!”.

This is just the tip of the sleep iceberg in this house. I’m guessing yours too? I’m hoping yours too!

Here is a typical night in our house, including bedtime routine:

(D1 – eldest & D2 youngest – 17 moth age gap)

5.45pm – Pj’s, nappy, amd bathroom time. D1 refuses to take a pee. D1 has a tantrum. D1 is ignored. D1 takes a pee. D2 refuses to brush his teeth. D2 brushes his teeth whilst in a martial arts grip by Daddy. D1 brushes teeth. We read a story. We are guilted into a second story. We get wise. No third story.

6pm – Both in bed. Kissed. Prayers said. A billion ‘I love you’s’ exchanged. D1 prays for a Lego Advent Calendar. D2 prays for a cake. Classical music switched on. Lights out.

6.01pm – D1 is thirsty. D2 is thirsty. Lights on.

6.02pm – D2 is crying to have suncream on. Lights out.

6.03pm – D1 has ‘pins and noodles’ aka pins and needles. D2 needs Spiderman.

6.04pm – D2 is too hot. D2 needs Lamby.

6.05pm – D2 is scared of his Gruffalo. Mummy removes the Gruffalo. D2 is scared of the other Gruffalo. Mummy removes the smaller Gruffalo also.

6.07pm – D2 is cold.

6.08pm – D1 has achey legs.

6.10pm – D2 snores. D1 sings The Wheels on the Bus. D1 is told off. D1 sings Incey Wincey Spider. Mummy laughs and says “Go to sleep!”

6.15pm – D1 snores.

7.30pm – Mummy sits down to eat dinner. D1 wakes up screaming. D2 is scared awake by D1. Mummy to the rescue. It’s hard knowing which one to calm first. D1 calms. D2 snores. Both are sweaty. Mummy pulls back both duvets. D1 snores.

8.30pm – Some swine beeps their car horn four times. I freeze. “Mummy! Mummy!”. Mummy settles D2. Both snore.

8.50pm – D1 wakes up coughing. He needs a drink. He refuses a drink. He squawks. D2 remains solid asleep. Cough. Cry. Cough. Cry. Cough. Cry. Sip of drink. D1 snores again. Mummy looks for the indigestion tablets.

9.30pm – D2 screams. Only mummy’s and dolphins can hear this scream. D1 snores away. D2 wants to sleeps in mummy and daddys bed. I say no. He moans. He forgets and snores again.

Mummy decides she needs bed herself.

9.50pm – Mummy lies on the edge of the kingsize bed. She doesn’t take her hair down. She doesn’t exhale. She doesn’t snuggle down. Instead, she lies there waiting for the words “Mummy I want you!”, oh and three minutes later there they are. Those lovely words.

D1 saw a shadow. Mummy convinces him to close his eyes.

10.02pm – Mummy sneaks into bed and gets comfy quickly before the next wake up call.

10.05pm – Daddy sneezes. Loudly. Mummy waits for her name to be squawked. Phew, everyone remains asleep.

11.55pm – D2 screams. He is blocked up. He says he has a bogey. He has no bogey. Mummys vapour rubs his chest. D2 doesn’t want Spiderman so throws him at D1. D1 stirs a little. Mummy holds her breath. D1 snores. D2 goes to sleep sniffing.

1.30am – D1 wakes. He wants mummy to put his dummy back in his mouth. Mummy searches for it. It’s vanished. D1 then announces he has it in his hand but he can’t put it in his own mouth because he’s too tired. Dummy in. D1 back to sleep. Mummy escapes.

3.40am – D2 shouts “Morning time!” Those words fill us with dread before 5am. D2 is bribed with sweets for breakfast if he goes back to sleep. D2 sleeps.

4.45am – D1 wakes up crying. I run like a puma into him pleading with him to he quiet so D2 can sleep. D1 wants to go downstairs. Lego City on the tablet persuades him to chill in mummy and daddys bed. Mummy snoozes. Daddy is asleep. Still.

5.25am – D2 bursts into the room and shouts “It’s time o clock!!” This translates to ‘get up now!’ We persuade him to play a game on the tablet too.

5.50am – D2 has wind. D1 cannot cope sitting next to D2. D1 punches D2. D2 cries before turning into the Hulk. A brawl commences, but Daddy is the only one injured.

6.05am – Mummy has enough. Everybody downstairs.

7am – Daddys alarm goes off for the first time. He hits snooze.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call a ‘good’ night in our house! How do your good night’s compare? Follow me on Facebook and Twitter and share them with me!

Tonight I’ve been silently reminiscing over the last four years. Where have they gone?

My baby boy is four tomorrow! Big boy four! I feel like I’ve had him forever. He radically changed my life from the very beginning. Four years has flown by, yet I cannot imagine life without being his momma. D1 & D2 rock my world. My four year old and my two year old are the air I breathe!

I remember very vividly the exact moment we found out we were expecting our first child. We were so happy. It didn’t seem real. It took a long time to sink in. That day was a massive turning point for me personally, both emotionally and mental health wise. It was the day I became a mum, and the day I ended being a self-harmer. Forgive my brutal honesty, but that’s exactly what happened. My new role saved me.

This time 4 years ago I was nervous, emotional, excited, amd having a pedicure courtesy of my husband. I remember repacking my hospital bag and D1’s bag. Folding the new tiny baby grows made my heart melt and also made me anxious. It had not beem a smooth pregnancy to say the least, but we got to 36 +5 weeks.

We had bought newborn clothes, tiny baby clothes, and premature clothes. We didn’t know how heavy he would be. I was 36 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I was booked in for a cesarean.

I wasn’t very nervous about the actual cesarean, just the spinal block. Due to a neurological illness I have become accustomed to lumbar punctures over the last 4 years prior to falling pregnant. I hate them with a passion. A spinal block was the same sort of procedure. It petrified me.

I don’t think I slept at all that evening. Tomorrow was the biggest day of our lives.

You worry if you’ll love your baby enough. Will you be a good momma? What will he look like? Will he have ten toes and ten fingers? Will he have hair? What if he’s not ok? Will my operation go well? Will I look a complete troll? Will my husband throw up? Will I cry? Will I be able to breastfeed? Will his outfits fit?

The spinal block was as bad as I thought. The cesarean was not too bad.

Laying on the operating table feeling somebody yanking away at your insides is a very bizarre feeling. Feeling your waters break is also up there on the bizarre feeling scale.

I don’t remember hearing D1 cry. It was a whirlwind. I remember him being weighed and checked. I kept asking if he was ok. Then the glorious moment came. Here he was. Our adorable, wrinkled baby boy. He was so tiny. 5lb 8oz. I loved him that very second. An unbreakable, unconditional love. My boy. Our boy.

I remember him being whisked away with my husband whilst I got stitched up. It was the longest 15 minutes of my entire life. Worth the wait though.

I was so scared to hold my baby. What if I broke him? What if he cried? How on earth do I feed him? Then the maternal instinct kicked in. This momma vowed to forever give her all for this little boy.

I cannot believe it was almost four years ago. We have so many memories.

There were endless sleepless nights. There still are.

There was pneumonia, tonsillitis, dairy allergies, viruses, bugs, hospital admittals, croup, flat feet, anaemia, tongue ties.

There were holidays, funfairs, farms, parties, cakes, parks.

There were santa letters, reindeer dust, christmas eve boxes, presents.

There were tantrums, scratching, pushing, timeouts, tears.

There were play fights, duvet days, movie nights, special treats.

There was a little brother, three became four.

There was a broken ankle.

But above all there was always, always love.

The last four years were jampacked with love. Unconditonal love.

I am far from perfect. Infact, I probably fail more than most. I yell. I am impatient. I have bad days. I’m grumpy if I am tired. My kids throw the best tantrums around. Some days we don’t go outside or do crafts. But I always love my babies. I always tell them I love them. I’m always grateful I have them. I always try to be better. I always put their happiness first. I always will.

Heres to the next four years being just as great, if not better.

Happy birthday eve my precious firstborn. Our miracle.

Some of us get offended easily. Some of us don’t. But I guarantee if you are a parent to toddlers you’ll be offended by them, very offended. And not just on one occasion, but on several! Daily! My kids offend me a lot!

My children are my world, I’d sacrifice anything for them, and do they appreciate that about me? At age two and three, hell no! They don’t appreciate anything I do. Not because they’re bad or rude, but because they’re a little too young yet. And I can live with that, most of the time. Some of the time, however, I cannot. I get deeply offended to grudging point. I’m laughing as I type as I am actually just kidding. The kind of just kidding with a sprinkle of ‘not really’ on top though.

I thought I’d share six of my reoccurring offended moments with you. Please tell me I’m not alone!

The dinner offense
You plan 7 days ahead. Each meal is carefully balanced nutrient wise. You cook it lovingly. My children would be happy with character spaghetti and crumpets every evening or chicken nuggets and hashbrowns, and the worn out momma in me desperately wants to dish up a quick tv dinner for them. But i don’t. I make sure they eat a variety of vegetables with each meal. I make sure they eat carbohydrates and protein. I lovingly prepare nutritious meals. I arrange the food the way each child likes it. At the same time I also referee a match between two tired trolls in my lounge. I sweat. I get irrate. I wish for bedtime. But I persevere. Some days my meals are welcomed with open arms, most days to be quite honest. But on some occassions I serve up poisonous yackiness. How dare I cook a lovely meal? There’s flailing, sqawking, and mouth clamping. Then there’s timeout. A very long timeout! I ask myself why I bothered and vow tomorrow I’ll give them genetically modified 15% chicken nuggets with deep fried chips. I take it personal. Then I have to get over it.

The new clothing offense
Since becoming a momma I rarely spend money on new clothes for myself. I’d rather spend it on my children. On the rare occasion I’ll purchase something new. A new top maybe. I save it for an occassion that doesn’t involve the four walls of my home. I look forward to wearing it. New clothes make you feel less mummified. I try it on. My three year old then looks me up and down. “Mummy what is that top? I don’t like it. Dont wear that!” And within 5 seconds you’re knocked to the ground by the words of a toddler and you would like to carefully clip him around the ear. I take it personal. Then I have to get over it.

The no kiss diss offense
We’ve all been there; you ask your child for a kiss. They point blank refuse and then go out of their way to kiss the next nearest grownup! Do they even love you? I take it personal. Then get over it.

The decorating offense
We spent hundreds of pounds and hundreds of hours decorating a joint room for our darlings. Every last detail was thought about. It was accessories heaven. It involved everything they love. Or so I thought. My darling three year old walked in and said “Wow! But wheres the clouds wallpaper like in Toy Story?!” Gutted. Got over it.

The Pintetest offense
I spend countless hours at night researching creative and sensory ideas for my boys. I love letting them express themselves. Some activities involve specialist items, and a week or two to prepare all the things you’ll need. You get excited. You explain the activity to your kids. Your two year old shares your view. Your three old doesn’t. He doesn’t even want to give it a go. He’s adamant it’s boring. Why do you bother? I’ll just sit you in front of Jeremy Kyle then tomorrow. Offended? Yes! Moving on, again.

The other mum offense
I am very protective of my munchkins; not in a smothering way, but in a good way. I am responsible for their hearts and minds right now. I have to protect their innocence at all costs. I am conscious of all they see, hear, read, play, and watch. They only watch toddler appropriate cartoons and films. Nothing else. They play toddler and preschool games on the Tablet. They even ask me if they are old enough to watch things i.e. Batman Lego Movie incase it’s scary or for big boys. They don’t question this 99.9% of the time. My three year old does 00.1% of the time. “Mummy my friend played a game with naughty pirates and it was spooky I think. Why can’t I play it? Why did his Mummy let him?” and then cue the tears and tantrum. Does he not know I’m protecting him? Does he not know he’d be scared and his little mind would lose some of it’s innocence? I take it personal. I wish he could understand I’m not like some of the other mums but for good reasonds. Not because I am a killjoy. I remember my reasons, their hearts, their minds. I get over it and stand firm.

Do you relate to any? Why not follow me on facebook and let me know 🙂
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