A night from hell. I don’t think I got more than two consecutive hours’ sleep throughout last night, and when you add all the small fragments of sleep together it probably adds up to about 3 and half hours tops. First Jacob appeared in the bed sobbing at some unknown hour, complaining of painful ankles (I know, he really is that odd!) He wriggled and jiggled as he does, and just as we were starting to drift off, Max started crying downstairs. Turned out he’d been sick, so I had to change all his sheets.
Back up to bed, then just as we were drifting off again, he started again. I rushed downstairs just in time to catch the rest of the vomit display. Cue changing all his sheets for a second time, plus his pyjamas, plus having to take a basket full of laundry down to the kitchen to start the cleaning process on his toys. When I eventually got back to bed, Max then decided he was wide awake and wanted me to play. Two more trips down to his bedroom to try to persuade him to go back to sleep, followed by a third to convince him that even though he was now very hungry, 3:30 in the morning is not the best time for breakfast.
Back up to bed, only to be woken again a few minutes later by Jacob crying, having failed to get back to sleep, and now scared of all the funny noises in his room.
By this point, Ursula had given up all hope of getting back to sleep, and was also convinced she was in labour because she was in so much discomfort. She didn’t tell me this at the time, instead going downstairs to watch Portland Babies on Discovery Health, and hoping that the discomfort would retreat. It was during this time that I got my roughly one and half to two hours’ sleep.
Shortly after she eventually came back to bed, waking me again in the process (I’m not complaining, just pointing out for illustrative purposes) my bloody alarm clock went off, because I’d accidentally set it last night, as my brain hadn’t quite computed is was the weekend. With the alarm turned off, Ursula finally asleep and convinced the children would sleep for hours yet after such a disturbed night, I rolled over and settled in for another good long stretch of sleep. Twenty minutes later, Max decided it now definitely was breakfast time. Night over.
Ursula is now asleep and I’m desperately trying to remain awake enough to entertain the children single handed. I’m clearly not doing a great job, as they’re watching Thomas the Tank Engine while I’m writing this!
Now I realise that this is all good practice, as once the babies arrive I won’t be getting an unbroken night’s sleep again for many a long and painful month (or year) but quite frankly I don’t need any practice. I need as much rest as I can get over the next few days to prepare myself for the next few weeks of hell. Somehow or other I’m going to have to work out a way to get a nap this afternoon. Hello Cartoon Network…
Incidentally Ursula wasn’t in labour. But she’s convinced her body can’t hold out much longer, and I think it’s pretty unlikely she’ll last the entirety of her allotted 8 remaining days.
We’re supposed to have another appointment with the obstetrician tomorrow, but given the massive snowstorm being forecast, who knows if we’ll even be able to get there? She’d better not go into labour in the middle of the night tonight.