Sleeping Like A Baby

Ask anybody about the first thing that comes to mind about the early years of raising a child, and you can bet the majority of them will answer, 'sleep'.

Sleep deprivation.

Sleep training.

Sleep schedules.

Sleeping babies.

Sleeping behind the wheel.

I think all of us have joked more than once, "If someone put ME to bed at 7pm, you can be sure I wouldn't come back out! No problems with monsters under the bed here!" Guffaw. Chuckle.

Most people try to put their children to bed at a reasonable hour. Not only is sufficient sleep essential for a child's health and well-being, but it's downright necessary for a parent's mental health. And I suppose, given that little children typically have bedtimes between 6pm and 7:30pm, it's a safe assumption that they'd wake between 5 and 6am. I mean, we couldn't really expect them to sleep longer than 10 to 12 hours, right? Right? *sigh*

Look, I know I have very little to complain about. Jack slept through at 11 weeks. Both of my girls slept through at 5 weeks. And by 'sleeping' through, I mean they did eight hours at a stretch, during the night - the fact that it was 7pm to 3am was not something I could quibble about.

Jack has always been a great sleeper. Narcoleptic, even. As a baby and toddler, he would sleep from 7 til 7, with two naps of an hour each. Quite deceptive really, given that he is a first child. If he was your first child, you'd be forgiven for wondering what all the malarcky about sleep deprivation with toddlers was about. (And by the way, peoples, we're not counting the early days as a newborn. Oh no. Back in the day, Jackie boy breastfed every two hours, round the clock. Round. The. Clock. Did Mummy lose her baby weight? Oh my lordy me, yes. Did Mummy nearly lose her mind without the calming, restorative effects of shut-eye? Do you need me to spell it?)

Both Phoebe and Maisie were terrific sleepers when they were tiny. I could literally put them down anywhere and they'd snooze away happily (although I will admit to more than a few afternoons spent holding them while they snored, simply because I could...) Phoebalina has always had a different body clock to her brother, preferring to go to bed later, and wake up long after Jack has been up and racing. More than once I crept into her room at 7, 8, 9am, just to check that she was still breathing. But since she had her own bedroom, it didn't matter.

It matters now.

You know how we're renting a unit while we build our new house? Well you see, the new house was supposed to be finished by now. We were meant to be residing in a beautiful townhouse, complete with three (count 'em, people!) bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms (which translates into three toilets. Three. What a blissful number. Never mind I am the turkey who has to clean them. One might think, with three lavatories in the house, one might actually find one to use on one's own??)

Anyhow, long, angry story short, our house is not finished. Not unless we wish to throw sleeping bags down on a bare concrete slab and call that home. We recently received a letter from the builder, kindly informing us that our house is scheduled to be completed by June, 2012. No, that's not a typo. And yes, that is 12 months over the June, 2011 date given to us by the builder, after purchasing the "house" in April 2010. Do you think I am a happy camper?? Not so much, no.

So in the meantime, we are renting, which I understand makes us more fortunate than many, many people. And I hate to whinge, but it's just the fact that we have three children, three YOUNG children, all sharing the one, small bedroom. One who likes to go to bed early, and wake up early. One who prefers to go to bed a bit later, and sleep in a bit. And one who is still breastfed morning and evening, who babbles herself to sleep and chatters when she wakes up, who cries in the night if she has a bad dream, and who thinks it's a lark to have her brother and sister readily available for entertainment purposes.

I suppose they've worked it all out for themselves, clever kids that they are. They seem perfectly content with the situation, now that they've sorted it. Jack and Phoebe go to bed between 6:30 and 7pm, which suits Jack completely. Phoebe lies awake and whispers in the dark, most nights until about 8pm. Maisie conks out around 7pm, but doesn't get carried in until the other two are quiet. If she is unsettled, such as when molars are coming through, we may have several bouts of screaming baby and crying children before everybody calms down. But they all do. Eventually.

Not counting nightmares, monsters under the bed, getting thirsty, needing the toilet and miscellaneous reasons for needing Mummy and Daddy at 2am, our kids sleep pretty soundly once they are asleep.

Until 5:30am.

(At this junction, my mother would remind you that I, too, once woke religiously at 5:30am. I am more than aware of this. I am not unfamiliar with the foibles of toddlers and their sleep/wake times. And I do not think that it is karma that is biting me on the bum. I just think my kids are waking up early, because that is what kids do. Especially when there are three of them in there, and one turns on the light. Hopefully, one day my grandchildren will wake my children at 5:30am. One can only dream.)

At 5:30 every morning, one of them wakes. It's not always the same child, but it matters not. Someone wakes up, which causes the eyelids of the other two to flutter and open. Typically, I take the Mouse into bed to feed her, because my own eyes don't open that early in the morning unless there is a holiday in a tropical destination being offered. The big kids play in their room and the Mouse dozes, until the gaiety next door becomes too much to ignore. At which point, Maisie stops feeding and starts shrieking for Jack and Phoebe. This typically takes ten minutes.

I am not shirty about my kids being awake at such a godforsaken hour. Goodness knows, I don't need beauty sleep. Heavens no! Isn't there a country where dark circles under the eyes, grey skin and general bleariness are prized beauty traits?? No..???????? Oh.

Well. At least during these years of rising at sparrow's fart, I have the advantage of not needing to spend money on batteries for my alarm clock. I can also rest easy in the knowledge that I will never miss the 6am news bulletin. That's important. And one day, one day, I will have teenagers that I cannot get out of bed for love or money. That's when the real fun shall begin. You want karma? I'll give you karma.