I’ve had lots on the last few weeks.
I’ve had bugger all sleep the last few years.
I had an 8.ooam basketball game this morning.
I’m tired. I’m grumpy. I just want a hug. And a shoulder to cry on. Oh, and some oven mits, but that’s a whole other saga that’s been going for nearly a year and for another post.
I have a nearly three year old. “They” don’t tell you this, but 3 year olds SUCK! They’re not terribly nice people to be around about half the time. Sure, they other half they’re great. But no, not nice to be around at all.
An aside; Monkey Boy is besotted by his littlest brother and all his cuteness. “How come he’s so cute, Mum?” I’m asked often.
“It’s a survival mechanism,” I reply. “If he didn’t have moments of cuteness, I’d eat him. That’s how it works in the wild.”
I believe in being honest.
Grumpy has had to head out. And I dont’ want to be left alone with my kids. It happens like this sometimes. It sorts itself out.
Chippie chose this moment to be an absolute arsehead and scream, and kick and fight me. He’s overtired. He needs some quiet time, and preferably a sleep. And like every other day of his life, includiing those days when he was the teensiest baby, he physically fights it.
Physically. Fights. Sleep.
And as he works himself up more and more, I fluctuate between trying to cuddle him whilst being kicked in the caesar scar, elbowed in the boobs and face and having a wayward foot connect hard with my whatsit, and wanting to stuff him in the sock drawer until he Shuts The FUCK UP!
I also try very hard not to scream at him. Or cry.
I lock hide myself in the wardrobe until I have regained the strength to cope with this seemingly neverending revolt on his part.
Then I lie on his bed with him, quietly, gently rubbing his back, forming large circles with the palm of my hand, as he dribbles snot and tears onto my shoulder before stuttering into a sleeplike state. He does those sobby, gaspy breath things, such was his distress.
And I stay there, gently rubbing, to ensure he is calm, and ok and asleep. I stay there because the gentle rubbing helps to calm me.
But I can’t help but wonder when it is my turn …