Why am I still here …?

Awoken several times again overnight.

When does “sleeping through” occur, and is it only restricted to the three non-consequtive nights he’s managed to do it over the last 19 and a half months?

I was already super tired when I went to bed, so being woke three times between 10pm and 5.30 am was really unwelcome. I awoke at the 5.30am timeslot with a moderately severe headache, quite possibly caused by the tension in my neck which came about in a bid to prevent myself from running from the house, pyjama clad, screaming and hopping on a plane to fucking Shanghai NOW!

Grumpy Pants got up and brought him into our bed, in a last ditch attempt to get him to sleep another hour. Standard practice. Have no energy to fight at 5.30am, and we can cope with lying in bed at that hour for a bit. At least we’re in a horizotal position.

Unlike most mornings, however, Chippie had clealry had his fill of repose – again, not sure how this is given his numerous wakeups overnight, but such was our situation – and after headbutting me several times in the back of the head in attempt to, I conclude, aid my headache, he resorted to kicking me in the back.

I hear the coffee machine go off, grinding furiously at the beans, and a mild sense of calm blankets me. Mild, because had toddler clawing at my nose in an attempt to get me to roll over. Still, I had a hot, caffeinated brew awaiting me.

Eventually, I was able to coordinate limbs into getting me up out of bed, stagger to kitchen and retreive coffee pot. Which appeared seriously devoid of any hot, black, caffeinated beverage. Dissapointing.

Added water to machine, fired up computer and grumbled around house until coffee ready. Coffee not having had time to hit bloodstream I was barely able to cope with, first up, Godzilla’s over-exuberance at the fact he did not have to unstack the dishwasher as it hadn’t been turned on last night, and secondly, his great distress at the fact the lunchboxes were still in their from yesterday afternoon, unwashed.

Washing them by hand is, apparently, not an option and, despite fact he was not expected to do this said washing of lunchboxes, took it upon himself to empty Tuppeware drawer onto floor of kitchen in order to locate other lunchboxes.

Being rather fond of Tupperware, and despite most of it being in use, we appear to have more Tupperware in drawer than we do floorspace in kitchen.

Dilemma sorted, and coffee still not fully having impact on brain function, Grumpy Pants puts last remaining slices of bread in toaster for himself. A few well placed glares and grumbles have him searching the freezer, producing another loaf, getting the hell out of my way as quickly as possible with his naked toast and I set about toasting my own bread and making sandwiches for school lunches.

After some moments … nope, coffee still not having desired effect, must have more … am somewhat miffed that my toast has not yet appeared, so swear at toaster for a bit before discovering it has “popped”. There seems to be somewhat of a lack of toast in it though, so I swear at it some more about being a bastard and eating MY toast before comprehending that I didn’t actually put any bread in it.

Grumpy is very nearly stabbed with a blunt knife when he “humorously” suggests I do the swimming lessons with Chippie this morning.

Drink more coffee, yell at some kids and we’re off on the walk to school.

Think, perhaps, the safest thing for me to do today would be lie in repose for as long as possible.

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