Cough cough. cough cough cough. Cough. Thud. Moooooaaan. moan moan moan. Moan. moan.
The sounds are from middle son's room, 10 pm-ish. He just turned two in August, and on the weekend we took the side off his cot; the Big Boy Bed. Although he is in these sort of 'training sheets' that zip up the side so he doesn't fall out of bed easily, he still has managed to sausage his way out of the roll, if you will. The zipper makes the duvet into a sleeping bag type situation, the duvet now attached to the bottom sheet which is attached to the mattress. With a built in pillow too. Theoretically he could get up and walk about with the mattress strapped to his back if he liked, little legs out the bottom...that would be a precious sight! Anyway, out the top he must have come, as when I went in the room his little face was pressed on the floor alongside one shoulder, the rest of him suspended by the one remaining foot still up on the bed. Why he stayed like that while awaiting rescue I don't know, perhaps he didn't want to get up and around in the dark - given, he must have also been in a bit of a shock delirium being just torn from sleep so suddenly. Bless.
'Oh dear, have you fallen out?'
'Yes, fall out bed!'
'Are you OK?'
'Let's get back in then'
What might have been a simple insertion at that point did not occur. For some reason, he made himself stiff as a board, so as I was trying to bend him to get him back into the cocoon I only succeeded in lifting him up repeatedly, his face the fulcrum point of my efforts. Again, bless him, poor thing. My laziness in not opening the zipper in the first place had been beat out. In he went and that was that. That night.
Since the four nights that have passed with him in the new bed, not one has passed without incident. One night he was out completely, thumping about his room in the pitch black; another his beloved sleep dolly had fallen out onto the floor. Curses! He was sleeping perfectly without any trouble at all before this changeover, why WHY!!!!??? I think to myself, why did I do this? If it ain't broke don't fix it and all that.... but I do know that whether I did it last week or six months from now the same things would occur, as part of the learning process of being in an open bed. So fine, I accept that. At least the baby is no trouble at all now, really - after 10:45 pm he doesn't need tending until morning. (Instead I do often need to listen to him party to himself for an hour, between 4 am and 5 am. At least I don't need to get out of bed). As a mum with three young kids I accept that somebody (or somebody x3), for some reason, will have me up skulking about in the dark between 10 pm and 7 am.
What really gets me though is when it isn't a child, but the blasted cat. On the rare occasion that no child disturbs me, the fates insist again that I must never get a whole night's sleep. Over the past few months we have had a rattling radiator problem, which numerous times in the night we were awoken by the cat using it to jump into the window - I nearly paid someone 100 GBP to have it fixed it was making us so crazy - but then I brilliantly stuffed a towel down the back and that seems to have done the trick. Hopefully once the heat goes on this doesn't burn the house down or cause some other associated disaster (!). The other favourite of Thierry the cat is to barf, on the white carpet of course. In the middle of the night. If not disgusting enough to have to clean up after this foul cat habit, his cat highness always ALWAYS does it at night. I astutely tear myself from sleep the moment I hear the indicative, quite distinct cat retch....there is always a preamble of awful cat retchy noises that if I am quick enough I can scoop him mid convulsion for safe receipt on a stone or wooden floor. What actually happens though is I end up slightly too late (retch preamble two or three! aack too late!) and I make the mess worse by creating a lengthwise spray trail en route to the hard floor, the hard floor ending up unscathed but the carpet and adjacent walls decorated quite artistically. Last night we were up at 4:30 am, armed with the Vanish carpet spray, once again. Oh but he is so cute and cuddly. Damn him.
The worst shock in the night was when there was an almighty *SMASH* - the sounds of cracking and tinkling that only broken glass makes, and although I am sure only lasted seconds the sound seemed too go on forever, and SO loud. We leapt out of bed and downstairs to find the giant hall mirror on the floor, mirrored glass just everywhere, everywhere. That was a couple of years ago and I swear I still find bits of glass from that scattered about in dark corners. The mirror has since been replaced by the couple of giant wooden lizards we brought back from honeymoon, a much more innocent hall feature!
I know I have at least three more years of broken nights. And my husband commented last night to me that I probably need some botox. Perhaps these points are related? I do look a little night-of-the-living-dead nowadays - so hey, if he's selling, I'm buying. In the meantime, if I do have an undisturbed night of sleep between 11 pm and 7 am, I will quickly report. But I wouldn't wait up for it if I were you.