Those of you who have been archiving and analysing my Twitter feed would have noticed that a couple of weeks ago I crossed over into certified hysteria over the fact that an additional child was finding her way into the marital bed during the night. I'd reach a semi-acceptance of having
three in bed (if by acceptance you mean writing
epic doggerel bewailing the situation), as you would expect from having the same thing happen
seven hundred and fifty three days in a row. But when
another child demanded access to me, my bed, my blankets, my pillow, and my ears - and that child vociferously fought with the
other child over said access and kept everyone from actually sleeping, I lost my sh*t. At first, internally, as I gnashed my teeth and wailed about how my life was over. But then one night at 4AM when I hadn't been to sleep yet and Maia was screaming about not having enough blankets, and Jamie was complaining that she scratched him, and Steven was sleeping on the floor in Jamie's room, and they commenced an actual brawl on top of my supine body, I lost it with them. I shouted, 'NO. MORE. CHILDREN. IN. MY. BED.' and dragged them back to their respective beds in their respective rooms, and returned them again and again for the rest of night.
The next day, the three of us sat down for a proper chat between zombies. Although our attempt at making them share a room had been
the impetus for Jamie's sleep problems to begin with (he was a Model Sleeper beforehand), there was nothing to lose by moving them in together again, especially as they were both complaining that they were scared during the night. So that's what we did. The three of us tidied up Jamie's room, we moved some furniture around, and they became roomies.
I've been keeping a secret from you: I have not had a child* in my bed since. They are taking the responsibility for keeping each other company during the night seriously. Yes, they are sleeping less than they did before as they talk instead of going to sleep, and both wake up at stupid o'clock, but
there are no children in my bed. And so things changed for me. Without the need to get myself absolutely bone tired so I could sleep through ear tuggings and kidney punches, I could work during the day like a normal person. I've gotten used to getting a reasonable amount of sleep again; I've taken a book to bed to read. If my crafty output has been a little less prodigious, and my blog posts more sporadic and less sleep-deprived bizarre, that's why.
And now the dreaded pox. One definite week without child-free daylight hours to work and another one expected once Maia catches it. And so I return, the Nocturnal Crafter.
*Steven is
technically an adult.