that those with 3 under 3 had their difficulties in negotiating the day and daytime naps, feeds, tantrums, nappies and all the other motherly duties that come with having one child, just in triplicate, with a little bit more flexibility and organisation. Yes, all these things need to be done, however it is not the days that pose the problem. Well, not usually anyway. It's the nights.
Take for example last night. Both the girls went to bed at around 6.45pm. Lexi decided she wanted to be difficult and carry on for a bit, which for her is unusual, but in the grand scheme of juggling things is not all that surprising, because usually when you think one thing is going to go one way because it "usually" does, that's when it changes and it doesn't go that way, rather it goes the opposite. So Lexi is usually the "easy" one to get to go to bed. Change the nappy, get the soft toys, tuck in, discuss what we're going to do the next day, kiss and mmmmm (this has grown from me kissing her good night and leaning down to cuddle her with an mmmm sound, so that now when she says goodnight to people she blows them a kiss and says mmm, it's very cute). Anyway, so that's the usual process. Last night was unusual. We did this, but as soon as I left the room it was "mummy mummy mummy". I just figured one of the Emmy's (her lovely elephant soft toys) was missing. Nope. That wasn't it. She just wanted me in the room. For no apparent reason. So when I left again it began again. "Mummy mummy mummy". So I explained to her that she needed to sleep and build up her energy so we could play and do things today, but she wasn't having a bar of it. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She was just unhappy to be in bed. Very strange.
And Tabitha, well, she is usually the one who causes all matter of get out when it comes to bedtimes. There are tears and tantrums and carry on, which ease into high pitched la la la sounds as she talks to Julia (her doll) or Miffy (her other rabbit doll thing), and then ooze back into the tears and carry on. It's wonderful, really. But she must have sensed that Lexi was doing her job for her because she went down without a hassle. Fabulous I thought. Stupid me. Never count your chickens.
So they were both asleep by 7.30pm. Angus decided he didn't want to be asleep, so remained up until about 8.15pm. That's cool, he's pretty chillaxed most of the time. And again, there's that assumption thing popping up. I wasn't quite prepared for the fact that nearly half a dozen tearful awakenings before a ripper burp let forth and lo and behold it's 9.30pm. Now in between this time I am buzzing back and forth to the computer, as I have two essays due at the end of the week and have done a relatively small portion of each.
I think it was around 9.32pm when Tabitha woke up for the first time. And then every half hour onwards until around midnight. Perhaps even a little later. By this stage I was so muddled between burps and crying and discomfort and international commercial law and shipping regulations and the problems Julian Assange is facing and the temperature of the bedrooms and whether the bottles were washed that I had no idea whether I was Arthur or Martha. As it turns out I was neither, I appeared to be David Copperfield, materialising in one part of the house, then miraculously being in another only seconds later.
So I crawled into bed around half 12 or thereabouts, and then Angus awoke at around 1.30am for a feed. That's okay, he's a baby, that's what they do. It still didn't stop me being slightly angry at him for not being one of those "I sleep through" babies. Tabitha was an horrendous sleeper. She didn't sleep through until 5 days before Angus was born, then did for a few months, and about a month and half ago she decided that wasn't her cup of tea, she'd much rather be up in the middle of the night so I'm blessed with that lovely joy.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, Angus got up, had a feed, and I crawled back into bed. 4am was when Tabitha woke up again. Unhappy. Nappy change, stroke the forehead, eyes close, breathing slows, I leave the room and hell breaks loose. It's like she can sense it. And Angus woke up at 4.15am for a feed. So try explaining to an 18 month old that she needs to calm down and be quiet because mummy needs to feed her brother. Yep. Try nailing jelly to a wall, you'll have more success. So Angus went back down around 4.30am, and Tabitha continued to perform the role of psychological angle grinder until around 5am. And again I crawl back into bed, and at 6.15am Angus awakens. Oh god no. Please no. Shhhhh. Please go back to sleep. Seriously can't you understand mummy is tired? No, you can't. Crap. So I put him beside me in the bed, which is something I haven't done for such a long time. And he went to sleep. SCORE! So I mini kipped beside him until he woke up around 7, then Tabitha got up (surprise surprise), I got them sorted and heard the little peeps of "mummy mummy mummy" from the end room and so the day begins again.
Wonder what tonight will be like? I daren't say it can't be worse because as I have previously mentioned, assumptions don't tend to work so well around here......
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