The Curse of the Early Rising Child
It must be the middle of the night. It must be. It can’t be morning yet. It is pitch black. And yet, there is a toddler in my bed, pulling my hair and punching me in the face. MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAAA etc etc.
FFS. IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Just 5 more minutes…
5.10 am.
I now have a decision to make. Do I:
A: Try and get him back to sleep. Knowing that by the time I get back to sleep it will be time to fucking get up.
Or
B: Just suck it up and stick CBeebies on for 2 hours while I lie like a corpse staring into space, wishing I was one of THOSE mums where ‘my Freddie is an AMAZING sleeper, he sleeps through the night from 7.30 until 8.30’. WHERE DO YOU FIND THESE CHILDREN! Either you are lying or you are some kind of spell casting wizard. Or a calpol drug dealer.
5.30 am. I can’t take the face punching and head sitting any longer. I roll out of bed and smash into the floor. I pause. Face down, prostrate on the carpet. This used to be the time when I would roll in from a nightclub. A looooooooong time ago. With an alcohol glow, knowing I had a big lie in in front of me, and I would wake up to a Sunday roast courtesy of the parentals. Meh.
5.35 am. I peer out the window, wrapped in my pink fluffy dressing gown, mascara smudged down my cheek and my ponytail hanging on by a thread. Some people are out running. WTF? You are up at this time BY CHOICE?! Just make me feel more useless why don’t you.
5.40 am. CBeebies doesn’t start until 6 (WHY?!) so I find some random channel with transformers on. That will do for now. The sofa calls.
5.45 am. Child has already emptied every toy box while I stay glued to the sofa in my fetal position. I have 20 Paw Patrol stickers on my forehead.
These days are loooooooooong. These hours before breakfast (ok so he has already had raisins, a coco pops bar, a yogurt, last night’s poppadum he discovered down the sofa arm) are like no man’s land. You’re not sure what to do with this time. Except try and remember what it felt like to SLEEP. I look on Facebook, and low and behold, there is another mum up. But she is making organic gluten free porridge oat bites with fairy dust and unicorn glitter. Not crying into the second poo nappy before 7am. Sod off.
It’s been a long day. I’ve been up FOREVER (and the child still only napped for 20 minutes). So I didn’t even get to watch Judge Rinder in peace. However, the list of things we have done is rather impressive. Played games, read books, gone swimming, had cuddles, sang songs, danced around the living room, jumped in puddles, climbed a mountain, ran with dinosaurs and slayed a dragon. All before lunch. And, actually, that feels awesome.
So as I climb into bed at 8.30pm, exactly 3 minutes after the cursed child has fallen asleep, I will remember these mornings where it’s just us 2. Snuggling. Talking. Watching CBeebies. Ahhhhhh Mr Tumble is on. My favourite.
