Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Night Shift.

During the day Ivy is blessed with full control of her arms and legs.

But in the night she is struck with a terrible syndrome that means she must call her parents to replace the blanket every time she kicks it off her feet.

And 'toilet -trained' might be rather a strong term for a child who is not above wetting the bed twice in the night, despite having been led groggily to the toilet. (Where it has to be said Keith and I have our favourite sleepy conversations with Ivy as she recounts her dreams. Last night she said 'Shrek took my bed to sleep at his house and he left all my friends behind. That's not right, Mum.' 'No, it's not,' I agreed, but not strongly enough for Ivy. 'It's NOT RIGHT, MUM!' she shouted earnestly, holding my chin.)

Meanwhile Ted cries out once or twice every night, having confusedly wedged himself into a strange position in the bed from which he can't find his dummy or his bear.

We should perhaps not go to bed at all, but rather sleep sitting up in the corridor, armed with dummies, fresh sheets and strong coffee, poised for the next command.


  1. Oh yes. It gets like that, doesn't it??!!

  2. I feel like I just read about my evenings at the moment (minus the baby who is in our bed by 1am after we abandon the cot-idea again).

    I have found a few of these mattress protectors helps to reduce the washing of sheets (or towels!) & improve the turn around time for getting back to bed.

    As for the "I NEED MY BLANKETS!" wake up seems to only ever start EXACTLY 20 minutes after I go to sleep.

  3. Oh boy, I feel your pain! How funny is the crazy night time banter, though! The little dream stories, semi awake crack me up..

  4. Have you got waterproof sheets? I got some from Target, they are the bomb.

    I feel for you. I'm not there yet with Rosie. But I'm sure I will be. I am already squashed to the very edge of the bed as she sprawls in the middle, boobie firmly in hand.

    Ivy. I love her imagination. x

  5. I'm sure 'sleeping through the night' is a myth. William gatecrashes our bed in a diagonal fashion every night, both hogging my pillow and kicking Justin in the groin all night long. Charlie manages to wedge a limb or 3 outside the cot at least twice. What is the blinking point?

  6. Hope that things improve soon and you manage to get some decent sleep...

    But you gotta love those little middle-of-the-night conversations.
    So sweet.

  7. Giggling at the thought of parents sleeping in the hallway. So true. So true. Perhaps, at least, you could turn the disused parent bedroom into a magnificent studio in which you might wile away your sleep deprived daytime hours? No that wouldn't work, would it? You'd just end up kipping under the table. Or at least I would.

  8. I too love those sleepy middle-of-the-night conversations. I just wish they took place at a more reasonable hour.


Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.