”I just LOVE 6am starts with my precious minions, especially on a Sunday, after 4 consecutive nights of no sleep and sick baby.” #soblessed #sundaysnuggles #earlymorningsareTHEBEST
6am: 1 hour and 13 minutes after your last trip to her room, and you hear the grumble of the monitor AGAIN. It’s still dark. You know you haven’t been sleeping long enough for it to be morning already. You hear the whine, or groan, or snuffle from the monitor and you hold your breath, hoping to Christ she’s simply lost her dodey and will go back over. I don’t know why you hold your breath, but you do. And you don’t move a muscle because you KNOW that she will sense your movement from the next room and you will basically be giving her permission to wake up fully if you breath…or move.
She goes quiet for about 30 seconds. You’re JUST exhaling when you hear the “CRAAAASH!” as the Dummy is fecked onto the floor, followed by her feigned shocked tone as she announces “uh oh! DOOOOOODEEEEE?”
Then, a few minutes later, it comes, clear as an alarm clock…”MAAAAMMEEEEE”.
Regardless of what other tricks you have up your sleeve; popping the dummy back in her mouth, bringing her into your bed for snoozes, praying; you and she BOTH know that she’s won. You have only ONE other chance of getting another hour of sleep.
But then you look over at the big Gobshite, who is either genuinely in a fucking coma, or just doing a MARVELLOUS job of pretending he doesn’t hear your swearing and grumbling or the brass band now battering in the next room, and you KNOW you have about as much chance of Ryan Gosling turning up at your door and whisking you off for a 3 week holiday in the Maldives where he plays the piano and sings to you, while Jamie Dorian feeds you grapes all day long…
So just to make sure Gobshite Boy KNOWS how fecking AMAZING you are for dragging your arse ljt of bed for the 4th time since you got into it, you quietly and subtly SNEAK out of bed, tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, leaving him to his slumber…
Or, you dramatically THROW the duvet off BOTH of you, sighing and grumbling things like “FINE. I’LL get up AGAIN shall I? Watch now in case Mammy MIGHT get a FUCKING SLEEP. YOU SLEEP ON THERE DARLING. DON’T LET YOUR KNACKERED WIFE OR YOUR 2 LITTLE DARLINGS DISTURB YOU THERE NOW WILL YOU.” And just for fear, he hasn’t realised that youre a tad annoyed, give the door a good SLAM as you leave your beloved to roll back over.
He’s knackered too God Love Him.
All that sleeping has him SHATTERED.
But being the martyr you are, you stagger to the kitchen, baby on hip, minion skipping beside you. Yes. Skipping. At 6.13am.
You change nappies, pour milk, feed minions, turn on Scoobyfuckingdoo and make coffee, which you don’t even get to drink. You try to be optimistic and think about #sundaysnuggles but your little Darlings don’t DOOOOO snuggles. They prefer to ignore you except for snarling for food, pull out toys and saucepans, and terrorise each other. The only way you can guarantee snuggles is if you dare look like you’re taking a snooze. Then, they’re on top of you until they’re convinced that you are awake and alert enough for them to ignore you again. 👇👇👇
And all the while, Sanctimammy in your head is thinking, “They are perfect. I am a wonderful 6am earth Mamma and they are precious and I really do love watching them play. And my Darling Him needs a lie in really. Who needs sleep anyway? #soblessed”
But the REAL Mammy is thinking “Me. ME. THAT’S who needs a sleep. Me. And of course I love to watch them play, but only after 8.30am, you know, in ACTUAL DAYTIME? And FECK Him the Big snoring Twat. I deserve a sleep-in this morning soooooo much more than he does. Gobshite. #soblessedmyarse #FML”
Anyway, a coffee shall fix everything no doubt.
You may as well do a load of washing. You’re up now anyway. But then you remember there’s cake in the fridge…and suddenly all is right with the world.
Of course, things could be worse Mamma Bear, but you know what? That doesn’t mean that you can’t have a grumble does it?