Ellyn's motherhood story – The story of the stolen sleep.

5am

He woke up at 5am this morning. 5am! And you know what he wanted? To talk about cake. You heard me. Flippin’ cake.

He peered at me through the darkness repeating the word “cakey” with hope in his eyes, all the while patting me on the cheek to make sure that I was awake enough to REALLY get the message. Cakey bloody cakey.

I mean, who the hell wants CAKE at that time of the morning?

Even after a big night on the booze in my twenties, never ever EVER would I have wanted cake at 5am in the morning. No way jose. That much sugar would have made me hurl. And yet here was my little toddler with his cast iron stomach asking for cake when he should be sleeping. Nope.

GO BACK TO SLEEP you flippin' sugar crazed little human!!

I took a deep breath, and eyeballed him (as much as my painfully tired eyes would allow) and whispered “no cake baby, it’s still dark outside. Rest your weary head on mummy. You are very tired so have another little snooze my sweet angel until it’s time to get up”. Though what I really meant was “SHUT YOUR DAMN EYES YOU SLEEP STEALER, GO THE FRICK BACK TO SLEEP UNTIL MUMMY IS READY TO GET UP, OR AT THE VERY LEAST UNTIL SHE SEE'S SOMETHING THAT RESEMBLES FLIPPIN’ DAYLIGHT”.

Oh the injustice of being awake that early! I mean, mummy didn’t get to bed till 11:30pm last night. How could he not know that? HOW COULD HE BE AWAKE WANTING CAKE RIGHT NOW?

My sweet little man responded by resting his head for a moment, which made my heart SING with joy and fooled me into thinking I had a very compliant little child on my hands. He then quickly (like a ninja) pulled the bottom of my t-shirt up to my chin, squealed with delight, poked me in the boob and then leant down and blew a whopping fat raspberry on my mummy tummy.

Figures. Dammit.

There would be no more sleeping for anyone this morning I guess.

But that’s alright. Because today is a Friday, and I don’t have to work on Fridays. So I won’t have to prop my eyes open with toothpicks just to get through the day.

No siree! Fridays are one of my days home with my little man, so I will actually get to a-snoozing when he snoozes today.

Good, I just have to make it to around lunch time. Which is only 7 hours from now. Its not long right??! Just. Till. Lunch. Time.

7:10am

Daddy heads off to work, leaving the two of us alone to get through the day together. That’s fine because as much as I love and cherish my husband, it’s just that tad bit easier picking up after one person rather than two for nine and a half hours. I mean I only have so many wave-abouty arms that aren’t already filled with a wriggly toddler or food of some kind.

So, we start the day with our morning ritual.

We sit on the couch together where we share our regular glass of milk and a cuddle in front of Channel 22. We watch "Sarah and Duck" and my son loves it just as much as I do so it means that I can just relax for a few minutes without talking. And that is flipping’ great because I am not completely sure if I could get a coherent word out today.

I feel my body completely relaxing in the knowledge that I am in my happy place with my gorgeous little loving and cuddly man. My creation. The one who kept me up from 5am.

Motherhood is glorious and all that.

Fark, I am so tired.

8:00am

My eyes are struggling to focus because as I have stated 356,722,094 times already, I am just so tired… But as my baby is quiet and not slapping me in the face or throwing basketballs at my head, I am happy and calm.

And so is my son. I shut my eyes even though I know that I cant go to sleep at all, but I’m just giving my eyes a second to have a bit of a rest. Sigh. That feels lovely.

It's quiet for a second. Peaceful. Wonderful.

And then I hear giggling.

Something cool and wet dribbles down my face. I open my eyes to the biggest and cheesiest grin and the brightest pair of eyes that I have ever seen in my life. I look slightly up and see an upended cup of milk hovering above my head. My little one is dribbling the left over drops of milk (and probably a gallon of spit) on my face and is giggling like he is Jerry freaking Seinfeld. #whatacomedian

Calm. Breathe.

It’s all good, I tell myself. I don’t mind. Because I have a hot date coming up. With my bed and my pillow. Only four hours to go, and I know I will feel wonderful (or at least, not half dead) once I am awake again this afternoon.

Oh lordy, I have never wanted to see the inside of my eyelids more in my life. Like, EVER. Oh sleep, how I covet thee. Get in my face.

8:30am

You can do this girlfriend. You WILL get through it. But now it’s breakfast time for the little sleep stealer so get your arse up. Go and make yourself a double shot of something coffee-y. You will be fine. #youtotallygotthis

So, I dragged myself up off the couch and headed into the kitchen.

It’s breakfast time, (WOO!!) and nothing makes me happier than food. P.S – sorry not sorry husband. "Do you want googy eggs or cereal little man?” I slurred in the direction of the little sleep stealer. “Googy!” he shouts back, “Googy googy googy googy GOOGY!”. For those of you not in the know when it comes to my child’s lingo (which is just about everyone), I can advise that “googy" translates to scrambled eggs. Right.

Now that particular breakfast request is about all I am capable of making right now anyway so that’s a plus. I might make some toast with it. Actually who am I kidding? I cannot be bothered getting the toaster out. It’s going to be bread tossed on a plate with whatever spread is closest to the door. He won’t know any different, right? I get to cooking.

I am elbows deep in eggs and peanut butter when all of a sudden I hear “MUMMMMMYYYYYMUMUMUMUMUM”, and the sound of his little feet slapping on the tiles as he heads into the kitchen.

He stops on the way through the dining room and grabs a chair that is way too heavy for him. He grunts, huffs and puffs and gets all red faced as he drags it into the kitchen so he can see what I am doing.

“COOKING!” he squeals “COOKINGCOOKINGCOOKING!". This is a recent thing. He loves being involved in the cooking and washing in the dishes which is great because it means I can start counting down the days until I no longer have to do it right??!!

He hops up on the chair (with considerable amounts of help, because, well…tiny legs and all that) and he stands up there expectantly eyeballing me with a spatula in his hand, ready to flip the food that realistically I will not let him anywhere friggin near. With his spatula he instead proceeds to flick parts of the burner onto the tiled floor with a crash. Jesus.

I stand there and remember the days when I used to cook in silence and with ease.

I tell him to play for a bit longer while I finish off the eggs, so he proceeds straight to the pantry and starts pulling everything that is within arm’s reach of him out and onto the floor. GOD I LOVE CLEANING UP AFTER OTHER PEOPLE SO I AM REALLY GLAD HE DID THAT. Except I am lying. I don’t. I hate it.

But all good. Because I only have about 3 hours of awake time to get through now.

9am

We sit down and eat breakfast together and the time is made up of me begging him not to feed the dog and him completely ignoring me and laughing like a banshee. #nailingparenthood

9:30am

We do the dishes together.

And when I say “we” do the dishes together, he stands next to me on that same heavy chair tossing all of the dishes that I have just placed in the dish rack to dry back into the sink for me to re-wash. Either that or he licks them.

Cute. But annoying.

Sometimes he reaches his little arms in the water and splashes about “helping” me get the dishes extra clean.

We both end up totally sopping wet.

10am

I change us into dry clothes and put the TV on again. I know that’s not an ideal way for my little man to spend his morning but I just can’t help it right now. Today the TV is the babysitter. #sorrynotsorry

I have to admit that by now I don’t feel QUITE as bone wearily exhausted as I did earlier. I mean, I may still cry if I see a happy baby or a puppy on TV, but I don’t feel like I will cry if a bee flies within a meter of my face.

11am

I realise that my parenting style today has turned into one of pure observation. And that it includes an awful lot of sitting around.

I sit in the lounge whilst he avoids getting on his trike or his rocking horse. I sit in his bedroom on the floor whilst he tosses his blocks directly at the window. I sit on the laundry floor whilst he presses buttons on the machine and opens and shuts the door. There is washing half washed inside. And I sit in the kitchen whilst he opens and shuts the fridge, desperately trying to grab the cheese sticks and the blueberries.

I am such a crap parent today. But I am doing what I need to do to get through.

Just a little longer now.

12pm

WOO! THANK THE BISCUIT! IT’S FINALLY FREAKING NAP FREAKING TIME! I throw him into his sleeping bag, sing "twinkle twinkle little star” and toss him into the bed like I am The-God-Damn-Flash. My heart is singing with joy in the knowledge that it’s time to shut my eyes. Oh, to sleep. Flippin’ finally. I am almost shaking with joy and relief.

I head into my bedroom, shut the curtains and lay down. And then I pick up my phone deciding to just quickly check it because god forbid something might have happened on Instagram that I don’t know about. I'll just look at it for one minute. And then I can sleep.

12:45pm

I finally put my phone down and shut my eyes. I breathe out a massive sigh of relief.

12:47pm

Then the sound of “MUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUUUUUUUMDOGGYDADDYMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!!!!!!!!!!!!” pierces my soul.

Well.

Fark.

Here we go again.

ABOUT ELLYN

Ellyn says: I am a mummy blogger over at mummalifelovebaby. I have a very silly sense of humour and love to make people laugh. I also love to write and am OBSESSED with chocolate. I am married to an incredible man who is made up almost entirely of his own beard, and together we have one gorgeous little mini tyrant child whose life’s mission (it seems) is to make us laugh, and to feed the dog almost 100% of his lunch. Oh, and to then cry because there was no food left for him. ** shakes head** Sigh.

Hood: Bundoora

Children: 1 – Actually, 3 if you include the husband and the dog. Which I do. No wonder I am going grey.

Motherhood in 5 words: I always smell like poop.

Fav family friendly place: The local park near my house. My son is just gaining confidence to go down the slide on his own and the joy on that face as he heads on down makes my heart sing!

Coffee order: Chai Latte. Dear Lordy, gimme. So tired.

Blog: mummalifelovebaby

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