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I'm pretty sure my kids are growing up to become, not well adjusted, sweet little people, but....well, torture experts. They are screwing with my sleep. You know, the go to method of highly skilled torturers. Without fail, they instinctively know when I'm super tired and will burst into the bedroom at random hours of the night and tap/slap me on the face to wake me up and ask me a burning question.... Do unicorns fart? Ahahahahahha When I grow up, can I be Hannah Montana?Goggerson (Mstr5's stuffed toy of choice) wants to tell you something.... Mstr5 as Goggerson: Hello Mummy, this is Goggerson I am still in full sleeping ninja mode, flailing around, caught in the sheets, ready to grab the bedside lamp and clock some home invader over the head. It takes all my strength to recognize my own child and not start spewing forth a stream of random ghetto style 'shed words' to create fear while I'm trying to disentangle myself from the sheets and grab the lamp. For the home invaders' benefit, not the kids. Come morning, they are still up at a sadistically early hour (7am - shut up). This happens a couple of times a week. I relish weekends. No wait, silly me - that was before kids. Now I am roused around 5:30am by one of the mini elephants bouncing off the walls while jumping with their inherited heavy, flat feet all the way down the hallway to the toilet. Followed shortly after by a fake coughing competition. And then whining about being a copycat. After a few minutes, everyone agrees to disagree and they immediately go back to sleep. But not me. When I finally manage to drift off to sleep again, it is on. They are on me. Literally. Scrambling for pole position on either side of me in the bed. TV on, hello Spongebob Squarepants on repeat. I end up singing "Ohhhh...who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he. SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!...." in my head. All morning. Every. Weekend.
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But not Monday. Because Monday is a school day, so on Monday they are all still fast asleep come 8am. Bastards. By this time I've done a load of washing, cleaned up, made breakfast and lunches, and commenced losing my shit about how late we're going to be by the time they finally wake up. So of course I have to go wake them up, at which point they are complete arseholes. Because it's okay for them to wake me up every other day and night, but not okay for me to gently and lovingly wake them at 8:05am on Monday so that they don't miss school. Why can't they do that a day earlier? Every Monday #1Hubby and I stand in the silent kitchen and lament how awesome this silence would've been just 24 hours earlier. I'm convinced they do it deliberately. Not sure I'm going to have any luck trying to convince the school to start and finish a day later, so that Monday is the new Sunday. Wish me luck.
