Somehow, even though I don't tell them, the boys are always aware when I'm going to have a busy day so they can ensure I don't get any sleep. Last night, I was busting a hump trying to get packed and cleaned up for our Christmas visit to mum and Bill's today. About 3 am, I heard the vocal styling of Ben. I ignored him for a while as he often goes back to sleep. Not tonight though. Tonight was full on wails which made me think he was being murdered. I go into him and scoop him up. He gives me his "thank God you rescued me from this trauma" sigh and I survey the damage - bears have been forcibly evicted, even cuddlebunny, and everything on the bedside cabinet has also been chucked off. I take him to the living room and strap him in his chair and rock him back to sleep. It only took 30 minutes which is great compared to last night's 2 1/2 hours.
At 3:45 am I climb into bed, safe in the knowledge that, as the boys didn't get to sleep until late, I would be able to sleep until 8:30, maybe later.
At 6:00, I am woken by Noah crying. Noah isn't generally an arsehole like his twin and only cries when something is really wrong. So I get him out of his cot, he'd done what we maturely refer to in this house as "a stinky". I found this out by sticking my hand down the back of his nappy as I didn't actually think he had been. WTF was I thinking? He is presently relaxing in his chair watching Baby TV. I now hear Ben having a grumble.
And so the day begins. I haven't even recovered from yesterday which only finished a few hours ago for me.
I now only have 7 hours to finish preparing for our 5 day visit. I've been warned not to bring a load of stuff with me again and it's going well in that aspect, but I suspect I will panic at some point and throw everything I own into the bags, just in case, because they don't have shops in Herne Bay if I forget anything.
Time to crack open the Red Bull.
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