At Moomin's 9 month review with the Health Visitor I was asked how well she sleeps.

I responded that she sleeps like a baby. I then expanded on this by explaining that she wakes when she needs to as is biologically appropriate for infants.

I'm so tired of the pressure parents are under to get their babies to 'sleep through' the night, like it's proof of good parenting or worse..... a 'good baby'. It's not only bollocks, it's dangerous bollocks.

Some babies do indeed sleep through the night (which technically only needs to be a 6 hour run of sleep to qualify as sleeping through) and some babies don't. Newsflash. ..many toddlers don't either.

And that's OK.

That's what they fail to tell you.

Toddlers guide to sleep by A. Toddler

How Not To Sleep: By A. Toddler


* The first rule of sleep club is we do not sleep.  The Second rule of sleep club is, we do not sleep.

* Sleep is for the weak.  Resist naps at all costs.  The only exceptions to the aforementioned rule are:

a) Your Mum or Dad are due to go out somewhere.  In this instance, nap.  Nap like your life depends on it.  They will agonise over whether to wake you or not.  If they choose to wake you, this is your golden ticket to tantrum all afternoon.  Win!  Either way you've thwarted your parents enjoyment.  Job well done friend.

b) Later afternoon / early evening naps are always permitted.  This will totally fuck with your parents.  They have this cute little ideology about routenes.  It's our mission to smash this fallacy into smithereens.  It's for their own good. Really.  One day we'll break the news about the tooth fairy to them too.  One fallacy at a time my comrades, nice and gentle.  If we nap late, we get to stay up late.  Yes, that means Peppa wins over Eastenders.  Wine reverts to tea and better still, it reduces the chance of a sibling being made and thus forcing you to share your toys.  Epic Win. Now, be warned, Mummy might cry but stay strong.  This is for her own good.  Parents are manipulative creatures.  We're being cruel to be kind.

* If you must nap, ensure you don't let your parents fall into a routene.  Every few months change your nap time.  Keep them on their toes.  We must prevent them from planning around us at all costs.  Any security we lull them into must be false.  Do not be predictable.

* You must not, ever, go straight to sleep at bedtime.  Bedtime isn't relaxing, quiet nor easy.  It consists of a complex string of events that must be enacted.  We are exercising our parents sanity here, it's an important work out for them.  We will be doing them a grave disservice if we didn't do this.  Here are just a few of a multitude of ideas that you can utilise to delay sleepytime:

- Need a wee.  They're so chuffed we're out of nappies, the thought of us wetting the bed terrifies them.  I think the pee must awaken the wet monsters or something.  Don't worry, we'll tell them monsters aren't real, when they're old enough to understand it.  Do not tgo straight to the toilet, do not pass go, do not collect 200 rusks.  Peer into every room along the way.  Stare at your willy or wriggle on the seat for a while.  Dribble on your PJ's and cry until they put new ones on you. Then scream like the world has ended because they've put the wrong pj's on you.

-Need a poo.  Aint nobody want to risk a poo-in-the-bed incident.  Make sure you use this excuse after the wee one.  Let them put you back in bed first.  Whilst on the toilet it is intrinsic you remain alert and awake.  Talk to your poo.  Grunt lots. Squirm.  Take your time.

- Need a drink.  Whichever vessel they present your drink in, it's the wrong one.  You must tell them this.  Make them change it.  Twice.

- Want another story.  No matter how close they are to a tantrum, they will not deny you this.  The Book of Parenting tells them they must read to us.  If they decline, we will lose all interest in books.  Forever. It will be their fault. A lifetime of failure will await us.  Because they wouldn't read to us.  Take your time choosing a book.  Choose a long one.  Then choose another.  Cry if they insist you pick just one.

- I'm too hot.  When they remove your blanket, tell them you're too cold.

- I'm hungry - If you're lucky enough to still have it on draught, persist until she gets those bad boys out.  It's your milk.  They're your boobies.  She needs reminding of this.  If she tries to get you to unlatch, bite.  Hard.  When she screams, cry.  Cry hard and loud.  It's important she feels guilty for this.  This isn't about you biting her.  This is about her making you bite her.

-Want a song - It's important we build up their sense of self worth.  Take this one for the team, and let your parents believe they can sing.  Try not to cry, I know it's painful to listen to.  Whichever song they sing, interrupt halfway through 'no not that one, uvver song'

Be creative.  Be firm.  It's vital you prolong bedtime as long as possible.

* If you keep teasing a dog with a toy but never actually throw it, they lose interest.  It's important to let them feel like they're winning occasionally.  Parents are like dogs.  We have to make them believe in the possibility of sleep.  It's this hope that keeps the going.   Otherwise they'll refuse to play again.  Start to go to sleep.  Make sure you make that little quivery sigh, they love that shit.  Let them think they've won.  Wait.  Wait.  Bide your time.  You have all night.  If you're lucky enough to have a nipple in your mouth, wait until she's unlatched you, let her move away then wake up.  Nice and bright.  Nice and angry.  Cry until she returns it to it's rightful place; your mouth.  If they're rubbing or patting you, let them stop, let them ninja move away.  Wait until they get to the door.  It's important they taste escape.  Then, cry.  Make them start again, from the top.

You'll be able to practice this rapid return technique around 9-10 times depending on how much Valium is in their system.  If they accidentally shout at you.  Cry like your heart is broken.  If they cry, cry louder.  If they beg and plead at you, stare at them in silence, with wide eyes and pouty lips.

* Let them go. If you love something let it go, if it loves you it will come back.  This one is all about timing.  It will take around 30 minutes for them to believe you're asleep, pour some wine, put a film on etc.  They need this thirty minutes.  At around 35 minutes, wake up and start shouting for them until they come up to you.

* Finally, on a week day, wake up several times throughout the night then sleep in late.  Parents thrive on rushing around in the morning, it helps them feel alive. If they're not knackered their coffee won't have a use anymore.  Their world will end.

Night Stalker.

It's that time of night again, when I'm terribly fackered (yes, I made that up less of a mouthful than fucking knackered) yet unable to sleep.  The Husband has gone out and left the television downstairs on so all I can hear is Peppa Pig, I hope The Kitten is at least enjoying it.  The ridiculously short battery life of my wee netbook is decreasing at an alarming rate and I fear if I rummage for the charger I'll trip over something and break my neck in the dark  I haven't seen my bedroom carpet in months and the debris is akin to quicksand. The thought of exploring it in the dark is a little too white-knuckle-esque for me.

The Toddler is fast asleep next to me having delayed going to sleep with a story, a song, an impromptu trip to the loo for a ripe old shit and implorations for his beaker of water to be refilled all interjected with plenty of breastfeeding.  Still I suppose the subtle lullaby of his sleepy breaths is a tad more enchanting than his vitriolic arguments with The Spawn and his protestations of absolute innocence at anything he may stand accused of having committed in the court of family.

I'm stuck between a double rock and a hard place.  I can't sleep until I know Thing Two is asleep, she has insomnia you see.  However, she'll wait until I manage to extricate myself from the The Toddler to go pee to suddenly pounce and attempt to delay my return to The Toddler (who's chances of waking up increase with every second I'm AWOL) with an insistent stream of random questions and requests.  The other  part  of the double rock and hard place is The Toddlers recent freaky ability to awaken from deepest slumber the instant I attempt to do a runner and refuses to be placated whilst insisting he simply must accompany me.  So whilst sat on the loo, he sits/lays on the bathroom floor in groggy silence, eyes heavy with sleep near rolling in their sockets as his groggy brain creates a speech bubbles that simply says 'Huh?' Then he'll drag an stumble back to bed and go back to sleep as if he'd never woken up.  Even at night I can't piss alone! Still, he usually goes straight  back to sleep without a feed unless of course The Husband attempts to 'help' and comes upstairs to chat to him whilst he waits thus pulling him from grogginess and ensuring I have to start the whole bedtime breastfeed shebang all over again.  Thanks Husband, Love you too.  Still not entirely convinced I'm terribly enthused about the swapping of several night feeds to being stalked.

I'm fantasising about the bottle of Cider that I've had in the fridge for months, or at least I was until I unfortunately remembered it was removed from the fridge to make room for something else and even to one as desperate as I appear to be, warm cider is a little too close to piss in a bottle.  Still, I could however use the bottle to beat Peppa Pig into submission, why is she even awake still? Suddenly I'm salivating for a bacon butty.

Are you getting any?

It seems that everyone is getting some, every night even. Maybe you're having it in the bedroom or perhaps you're a little more daring and getting some in a tent or a cheeky hotel stay, maybe you're desperate and doing it on the kitchen table.  Not that i'm jealous or anything but for anyone who's getting more than me (and lets face it, that's hardly a difficult achievement) I'd like to take this opportunity to politely say; I hate you.  I admit it, I'm jealous. Hideously so, and jealousy is such an

ugly thing. Still, how very dare you be getting Some sleep when I am blatantly getting so little.

 My name is Mama Undone, i'm 30-something and I still don't sleep through the night despite sometimes being left alone to inwardly scream and cry.  Maybe I should be someone more dramatic like Mama totallyunfuckingravelled.

I won't tell a lie, it's killing me. The restless racing mind of mental illness married with rampant insomnia whilst having an affair with M.E does not a good love triangle make.  Throw into this my small self-made army of sleep assassins and I'm dreaming of drugging to sleep, them or me however? such a choice.  No I jest.  I wouldn't do that.  Honest.  Chloroform is much more my style....

So it's getting to that weird Twilight hour of night when you've watched every possible music video you can think of on YouTube and have somehow ended up watching some random hillbilly dance on his porch with an obese skunk so, in your desperation, you embark on a search of brain bleach to erase aforementioned video. You resort to Google in the hope of replenishing your Chloroform stock and end up on the rather more socially acceptable sleeping tablets section of Medicines 2U Online Chemist (have I ranted lately about my absolute horror at the ever increasing use of gringlish? no? oh I do believe you're in for a treat with that future blog post)  Now due to me co-sleeping still and yes my three year old does still breastfeed night and day, sleeping pills are an obvious no no and the lavender oil isn't quite cutting it. Instead of drifting into a blissful state of relaxation I remain homicidal and antisocial smelling of my Nanna whilst plotting generic death, destruction and justice.  However, to the casual insomniac you really shouldn't be quick to judge the more naturalistic approach, Lavender has been used successfully by many as a relaxant and sleep aid for hundreds of years and if there is one essential oil you should have this is the one it has a whole host of invaluable benefits.  It's okay, it won't dread your hair against your will or make you weave your own undercrackers from lentils.  You can even wear a disguise whilst you order it online if it makes it easier to dip into the natural end of medicine.   Or you could just compromise and try something like this which is more mainstream crunchy.  My point is, if you've tried the warm bath, windows open, warm milk and such approaches and the CD of nature sounds you bought in desperation from that patchouli scented psychic just makes you want to get up and have a piss yet you aren't quite at the hardcore begging your doctor to sedate you stage, there are many over the counter alternatives available, many of which take advantage of what nature can offer.  What do you have to lose, seriously?  You're losing sleep anyway.  





One day, i'll book myself into a hotel, purely to sleep in peace. All day.

One day, when The Spawn are all grumpy teenagers I shall delight in waking them....lots.

In the meantime however, i'll  count sheep......lavender scented sheep.  It's okay sometimes night is my dearest friend, in the wise words of Poppy Z Brite from one of my favourate novels "“I believe in whatever gets you throught the night. [...] Night is the hardest time to be alive. For me, anyway. It lasts so long, and four A.M.knows all my secrets.” " /// “Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.” 



Disclaimer: You really should consult your doctor if you have a chronic sleeping problem and always always exercise caution if you take a supplement or medication to help you sleep and never take any if you co-sleep or breastfeed without okaying it with your health care practitioner.

Stumpy

Other than the bath my other favourate place is predictably the bed.  This is all well and dandy or should I say it would be yet my bed unfortunately has a tragic form of terminal zombieitis. It died a long time ago yet joined the ranks of the undead and has been losing limbs and randomly trying to devour me ever since. By devour, I'm not talking in a yes please Mr Eric Northman kind of way, this is more of a scabby rabid coyote with a steak kind of way.

The mattress is my twin insofar as to say it's considerably lumpy, bumpy and decidedly saggy yet it pokes, prods and nips like one of those bloody yorkshire terriers or worse still, The Husband. One of the slats long ago broke followed by another resulting in the bottom of the bed being supported by old storage containers to prevent it collapsing.

Yet two weeks ago the bed underwent emergency surgery carried out by Doctor Husband and an old bent saw resulting in necessary amputation. The footer of the bed had come away at one end yet clung on like some starving parasite at the other side due to The Husband previously buggering up the screw making it bloody impossible to remove and dismantle.Arse.  So what we now had was the equivalent of a large swinging metal gate that The Toddler loved to include in his kamikaze stunts. Accident waiting to happen not to mentioned terribly noisy. So, out came the saw. The foot of The bed removed it left an ugly protruding stump of sharp metal, how divinely fetching. Dr Husband then expertly dressed this with a towel and gaffer tape. Yes, really. He's quite the improviser. My bed is now affectionately called stumpy.

It's not done too badly really. It was a cheap bed and mattress to start with, over eight years ago, as we were perpetually skint (some things never change) and my great aunts rather kindly paid for it for an engagement gift. We were happy though as we had a new bed, new! Better still it was handcufftastic and king size. Hell yeah! This was shortly before they brought out super-king-size you know just to piss on your parade, a bit like when you got an A in your GCSES then the bastards introduced A*'s just to ensure your achievements are rendered that little bit more futile.

I dream of a new bed. The Husband and I often debate four posters versus water beds though quite frankly even a camp bed would be an improvement for the sofa relegated husband.

In all honesty I'd be happy with any bed and for once in my adult life, a decent mattress. I have been positively lusting over sites such as 1907 Beds.

Still, the old bed has done us well seeing us through three pregnancies, one miscarriage, 4 years of co-sleeping, illness, depression and three exuberant and very bouncey little sods children and it will have to continue to do so as unfortunately It's at the bottom of a very long list of things that need replacing such as the dead computer, The half dead dyson, the dying toaster, the dead tumble drier, the dying television etc

...and It's still one of my favourate places to be.

To nap or not to nap...

So we are at that awkward stage with The Toddler insofar as to say he clearly isn't ready to give up his daily nap (and skipping it has the rather bizarre effect of making him wake even more during the night) yet he doesn't appear to want his nap until inordinately late in the afternoon which again has an unsavory knock on effect to bed time. As it is he usually goes to sleep at 10pm ish (Yes, I know...) and gets up around 8am ish (with anything from 2-10 wakings)

If he has a nap in bed, he will sleep 1-3hours. If in the sling or buggy he will sleep 30m-1h.

As the pictures show, he randomly fell asleep twice this week on no-nap days, late in the afternoon. The first being in the sling on a bus and the second occurred whilst having a snuggle and a feed on the sofa watching Only Fools and Horses. I happened to glance down and there he was asleep!

So it would appear that he will nap impossibly late in the afternoon regardless of wether we decide on a nap.

Toddlers.... strange things.

Oh the places you will go

I look at The Toddlers squidgy wee hands as he sleeps unaware of my devotion and attention. These hands that pull, grab, stroke and contain my heart in their tight grasp.

One day he'll understand the sheer potential these hands of his have.  With these hands he will have the power to create and to destroy.  Dreams will be built and lives shaped with these hands.....

of being 5 with an imagination.

Thing Two has an extraordinarily super imagination. She is a dab hand at drawing, stories, making things, lego, song lyrics etc, incredibly creative and yet ruthlessly analytical at times leaning towards being a pedant.

However, there is a dark side to imagination. Although she has her fair share of bad dreams the biggest issue is that which prevents sleep in the first place 'bad thoughts' which all sounds awfully ominous with a side order of sinister.  Yet if you were to ask The Husband he'd likely describe it rather differently along the lines of 'bloody annoying' for it is he who does Thing One and Thing Two duty each evening and gets the fated 'DAAAAD' hollered, usually within ten minutes of putting the little darlings to bed just as he sits down, exhales, contemplates a can of lager and match of the day.  Whilst laid in bed with The Toddler attached to me doing that age old 'if you even think about reclaiming your boob and getting comfortable I shall wake up and cry, lots' thing I hear the predictable muffled roar of 'pissing hell' followed by The Husband pounding up the stairs in a sublime state of agitation.

Yet, last night The Husband went out to play at a friends house. Five minutes after he left I heard the familiar fog horn 'DAAAAAD' Now, I was in bed with The Toddler who'd been feeding to sleep for twenty minutes and although dozing he was still at that semi aware point where if I was to sneak my boob away he'd snuffle blindly and frantically for it threatening to wake up.

I listened keenly to see if Thing Two would cry (she didn't) or choose her usual course of action when The Husband is out which involves creeping across the landing and standing silently outside my door until my mummy radar senses her.

Before she could embark on the latter course of action I heard Thing One pipe up from his bed...

Thing One: 'Dad's gone out'

Thing Two: 'Oh.'

Thing One: 'what's wrong?'

Thing Two: 'I want Dad'

Thing One: 'well he isn't here. Tell me instead'

Thing Two: 'No.'

Thing One: 'Well, you'll have to wake Mum and [The Toddler] then.

Thing Two: (thinks about this and determines that would be a bad idea) 'I had bad thoughts'

Thing One: 'well, try and think about good things like a world made of Mars Bars instead'

After a while all was silent. When The Toddler had eventually given in to deep slumber and allowed me to extricate my boob from his mouth without waking I crept out. I literally get about ten minutes before his 'Mummy has dared to leave me!' Sensor goes off. I love to stand in their doorways and watch Thing One and Thing Two sleep, and asleep they were albeit with Thing. Two doing that eerie eyes half open thing and Thing One was predictably half naked. Only when all three are fast asleep can I exhale.

Lest I forget, just for the record, had Thing Two been in tears or shaken I wouldn't have hesitated in calling her into my room to comfort her and risked the wrath of The Toddler and having to attempt operation #gothefucktosleep all over again (with gritted teeth, a sore shoulder and protesting nipples)

Anyway this morning I asked her what the bad thoughts were last night to which she replied nonchalantly 'oh, we were walking down a road and [The Toddler] fell down a big hole and we couldn't get him out and then a car ran over him and we had to get a new baby' pretty impressive bad thought considering she'd only been in bed 5 minutes when she'd had it. I asked her if cuddles from [Thing One] would have helped yet she  simply retorted 'not really. I don't like it when he breaths'

....

I then inquired as to what she eventually thought about to get to sleep...  'oh, a house made of chocolate that we could eat and it kept growing back'

Oh to be a five year old...