THE WAILING through the WALL

Nothing can bolt you out of a deep sleep at stupid-o'clock quite like the devastated screachy-screams of a teething toddler, and as I've not quite let myself off the hook enough to discontinue the use of a baby monitor (ya know, because the decibels being emitted from this little bundle of insanity only rival a pneumatic drill, so I need to have that sound in stereo 😳 Not neurotic at all 🙄...) I I have admittedly found myself in a semiconscious state bolting towards the sound of the monitor instead of the bedroom door, propelled only by adrenaline fumes and a finely tuned fight or flight response, and halted abruptly by either hitting the wall behind said monitor, or the searing pain of a stray Lego block up the foot. (that'll snap any remaining drowsiness RIGHT out of you 👍🏻) It took three such disoriented mishaps before I could bring myself to admit my husband was right , and if I INSIST on keeping a monitor I should move it (It would appear that sleep deprivation, dulls all corners of the mind body and spirit, except the area that governs a slightly stubborn streak 🙃)... I finally arrive at the source of the wailing armed with a bop-bop (yep, a bottle, don't judge, I know he should be well off them by now but it's all bribery and corruption in my house) bleary eyed but ready to administer a cuddle and a teething remedy (not, I might add, the "cap full o whiskey!" remedy that my rather elderly neighbour seems to suggest to cure all childhood ailments, as much as he reassures me it "never did him any harm", I haven't yet resorted to bringing a tray of Jameson shots up stairs ...not to give to the kids anyway 🍷👍🏻) I've already gotten to the side of his cot before it dawns on me that my calamitous journey from my bedroom to here has given him long enough to self-soothe and go back to sleep. Great in one sense, but dammit there's another one in the net for my husband (aside from bribery and corruption, there is also a culture of competitiveness in this house. I don't even know how aware of it my husband actually is, but there you have it!) Time to do a quick headcount while I'm in here (because you never know with 11, 4, and 1 year old boys all potentially plotting in the same room, one night the urge to run away and join a circus/become a Jedi/ go hunting for dinosaur fossils in South America might become too much and they'll pack a handkerchief on a stick and leave (Again. Not neurotic. Honest ✌🏻😳) All three male gremlins are sleeping soundly , so I'm thanking the heavens for small mercies, but at the same time kicking myself for not taking heed of my husbands advice and holding my horses before I leap up to see to any source of theatrical sobbing. (No way Joseph! Dammit you will NOT have this victory!🙅🏼) I resort to covertly tiptoeing out of the room backwards, Captain Jack Saprrow style ☠ when I stumble over a small figure , stood on the landing in the dark , and I nearly meet a grisly end by toppling down the stairs (Oh so, that's what I'd get for being too proud , Joseph? HUH! WORTH IT!) The figure is that of my 6 year old stepdaughter. Disturbed by the racket and trying to make a disoriented trip of her own to have a wee (yes, just a family of disoriented night owls, the bunch of us 😁) So I take this opportunity to do my other headcount in the female gremlin bedroom, because ya know, it's the dead of night, and you never can tell when a girl of 6 might decide to go find her way to the land of Equestria, and disguise her escapades as a late night bathroom trip 😳 (I hear a flush , false alarm. Still not neurotic! ✌🏻️)... In the girls room i find my 8 year old stepdaughter is also awake, but for a different reason, She's had that nightmare about giant ants again 😳. A bit of reassurance that although it MIGHT be possible, I have it on good authority that if you made an ant giant it would be crushed under its own weight, sooooo it's all good 👍🏻 FINALLY. I'm back in my room laying on my all-too-unused pillow, with a mash up of snores playing down the monitor mixed with my husbands snores beside me (sounds like a barnyard full of pigs having a conversation) As I lay there I'm quite glad the other half is out cold and oblivious to the nightshirt that's just played out. No need to admit he was right on this occasion! (Sorry,Joseph! 1-0 to the wife!) I see the digits on the clock now say 3:39 A.M, that means I'm hitting the ground running in less than three hours to battle the day shift that follows my night shift... I should get my ass to sleep right away, but instead I lay awake thinking how very shit three hours of sleep is, and what if they made SUPER giant ants that we're invincible and didn't crush under their own weight...