Despite my blog New Years Resolution, I don’t think I’ll manage a full blog every day, although I may be able to cobble together a ‘Blogette’ (just made the word up, but it seems to fit).
Today was Darlek’s first day back at school, Sausage was due in nursery and Horace had to go back to work. We all overslept. No matter how hard we try, we cannot seem to get up on time. Horace tumbled out of the bed, got dressed, staggered out the front door and I wandered around bleary eyed in a panicked state looking for pairs of Sausage’s spare underpants for nursery (they all seemed to have gone into hiding) and tried to badger Darlek into getting dressed as quick as she could.
It was a bit of a shame really, as Horace now has to go into work an hour earlier than before and gets home at basically the same time as he did before, ie, horrendously late and usually just as the kids are either going to bed or are in bed – so he’s not really seeing them at all during the week. Last night I reassured Darlek that she would still get to see her dad, but that it would mean we’d all have to get up earlier, so Darlek got up very quickly, but was still only rewarded with a very brief blown kiss and a slammed door. She cried, poor love.
Tomorrow we will get up on time, my children will spend time with their father and we will not all run round shouting ‘Where’s me socks?!’ and tripping over the cat. That is the plan.
To be fair, I don’t think I can be fully blamed for sleeping in. I haven’t slept in my own bed for more than a couple of hours a night for approximately two weeks now, and there is no alarm clock in any room apart from our bedroom. We are having ‘issues’ with sleeping arrangements. Horace snores like a wild beastie with a megaphone, so I struggle at the best of times. Now we have to deal with Sausage claiming that there’s ‘Nakes’ (snakes) and ‘Bobots’ (Robots) coming into his room at night and scaring him. So Sausage invariably totters into our room in the early hours and climbs in bed, whereupon he wriggles and pokes me in the head and I can’t get to my pillow which I need to fold over my ears to drown out the wild beastie snoring. After about half an hour of trying to cope I tend to resort to either sleeping in Sausage’s bed, while he sleeps in my place, or folding out the spare bed in Darlek’s room if I can be bothered. I’m just grateful Sausage is no longer in a cot. That could have been difficult.
At some point, Sausage usually realises I’m not there anymore and clambers down the attic stairs and finds me, whereupon I’m once again harassed and then eventually cuddled up next to – which is quite nice really. Darlek thankfully sleeps like a log, that is the one thing that I am truly grateful of. I couldn’t survive with two children going on safari around the house every night. Anyway, I can’t hear the alarm in the mornings, so have to rely on my husband to wake us all up, Horace is unfortunately rendered deaf due to heavy sleep and does not hear the alarm at all apparently. I think he’s sent himself deaf with snoring so loudly for so long personally. Alright for some I say!
I suppose it’s my own fault, but I cannot bear the battle in the middle of the night if I try and put Sausage back in his own bed to deal with the Nakes and Bobots on his own. He cries, he yells, he climbs out of bed, it’s easier to put up with it all – although I think there’s going to be a crunch point soon where I demand to sleep in my own bed and do my own share of yelling and crying.
Anyway, in summary. The day in miniscule bloggette form – it snowed briefly in the morning which was a bit worrying, but it had cleared by the afternoon. Darlek and I had great fun skidding down the hill in the slush on the way to school. The weight of the pushchair and Sausage acted as a makeshift husky and we both slid loads and giggled. I began acting more like a grown up when I got to the bit where I thought I might come across other parents. I have to admit it’s more fun acting like a 5 year old though.
I sat and proofed briefs on the subject of foreign holidays and dreamed of far off shores while correcting commas and adding adjectives, and then went and picked the kids up. A slow cooker tea, a relaxed stare at CBeebies, a brief foray onto Twitter and then bath and bed for the kids. The end of another reassuringly boring day. I love Christmas, but it’s nice when it stops. I’ve found it all rather flu infested and manic, so I’m very happy to settle back into my comfortable rut.