I miss my sleep-ins.
I have a 3 and a half year old, a 10 month old and a husband. You would think the latter would entitle me to have a sleep in every now and then, and it does when my nagging can’t be ignored anymore, but its no longer a sleep in – what I get is a LIE in – there is a massive difference.
A SLEEP in, which you enjoyed before having children, is comprised of going to bed late having enjoyed the semi-nocturnal pleasures of staying up ’til the wee hours watching movies, drinking too much wine and eating Malteasers, going to bed, not caring for the time and drifting off to sleep (with one foot on the floor) in the sweet knowledge that you have no place to be other than your snug warm bed until whatever time you HAPPEN to wake up which is usually between the hours of 10am and midday. You get up leisurely, stretch and wander into the kitchen, grab a fresh coffee and relax with it and the Sunday paper with your lounge looking exactly as you left it the night before.
Now a LIE in is what you get when you have children. This is comprised of going to bed late having enjoyed the semi-nocturnal pleasures of staying up ’til the wee hours watching movies, drinking too much wine and eating Malteasers, staggering to bed whilst shooting the clock a murderous look, drifting off to sleep (with one foot on the floor) and then getting up every two hours to shove a dummy in, get a drink of water, take a toddler to the toilet, go to the toilet cos you’re up anyway and excruciatingly aware of your bladder, shove another dummy in until 6am when the baby is fully awake and protesting at the jail that is his cot.
You shove your snoring husband in the ribs, get no response, shove again, nada. You kick your snoring husband in the shins whilst pretending to stretch (no, I didn’t kick you on purpose – why would I do that?) to which you get sworn at loudly and then you listen to your grumpy husband storm around the bedroom searching for underwear, loudly make Niagra Falls like noises in the toilet all the while the baby sounds are escalating from the bedroom next door. Your husband goes out the bedroom forgetting to shut the bedroom door. Awesome. Its 615am.
You lie in bed with more than a mild hangover starting, staring at the back of your eyelids willing sleep to come, toss and turn, get grumpy, lie there thinking murderous thoughts about your dearest husband who was just doing what most men do – not his fault – and eventually drift off to that (not quite) sleep where you have the most bizarre dreams which startle you awake every 10 minutes. You give up on the idea of gratuitous sleep at 8am, stagger out of bed, wander into the kitchen and are accosted by a toddler wanting breakfast, a baby with a full nappy and the toy monster has thrown up all over the lounge room floor. Your husband see’s you and instantly makes a bee-line straight back for the bed muttering something about how tired he is.
Oh and the dog has chewed the Sunday paper.
THIS is a lie in.
To all my friends without *cough splutter* the blessing of children yet, I have one word –
’til next time,
PS – somehow, even after children, husbands still manage to get a sleep in. I’m not sure how and I’m sure its an evolutionary process due to the fact their “hearing babies cry in the night and first thing in the morning” gland in their brain is so underdeveloped it doesn’t rate a mention in medical dictionaries.