13 reasons why I didn’t get any sleep last night:
- Not one, not two, but three helicopters flew overhead last night, and in my half-consciousness I tried to figure out whether the sound was the central heating I was sure I turned off actually kicking back in. Nope, just three helicopters. Or one helicopter three times. I’m not familiar with identifying helicopters at night just yet.
- Child number one wanting a hug at 1.3oam and for me to get into her bed. I hugged her and sent her back to her bed with my pillow and told her to snuggle that instead.
- Child number two getting into my bed not long after that.
- Getting up to go to the toilet and being unable to figure out if it is 2.30am or 6.30am because realistically it could be either but it would mean the difference between going back to sleep or having to get up imminently.
- Child number two rolling around for a good 45 minutes and complaining about the cat a good 40% of that time.
- Child number two after a period of stillness sticking her foot out of the blankets about 4 centimetres from my face and whispering loudly “mum, look at that!”
- 15 minutes later asking “is it morning?
- 5 minutes later “I’m hungry”. So was I at that point.
- When she went back to bed the cat resumed his position of paw and darling fluffy head on my head, only he positioned his loudly-purring throat directly over my ear.
- At this point I put on Stephen King’s On Writing audiobook and listened to him recount the tale of when he had his eardrums punctured by a 30cm needle as a kid, and describing the resulting “wet patch with little tendrils of pus in it”. Even though I’ve read the book before, the pus wasn’t anywhere near as confronting as it was when he described it out loud at 4am. It was not conducive to sleep. Those little tendrils are still with me.
- Cat number two jumped between the cheap, plasticky blinds we have in our bedroom and the window. The window rattled. The cheap plasticky blinds cracked and rustled in the super-loud way only cheap plasticky blinds can. She ran madly back and forth until Lunchbox made her move.
- 10 minutes later, she did it again, but louder this time.
- Crushing self-doubt, acute embarrassment, and a good, healthy dose of beating myself up about various things, including but not limited to: this blog, writing in general, my terrible social skills, writing a book, lack of proficient domestic timeliness, the inability of my youngest child to eat vegetables, and the years 1996-1999 inclusive.
Going to bed early tonight.
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