We havent found anywhere to live. It seems that talking about it has not yet transformed into 'doing it'. Sleep depravation and work schedules seem to prevent any real activity.
Still, we've had two better nights, meaning that Seth is finally getting the whole point of nighttimes. A by-product of his epiphany is that will also be more rested, once our annoying neighbours stop hosting parties and playing 70's dirge at 3 in the morning and whooping "you go girl" at someone stomping to 'brown girl in the ring', and so back to why we want to move. Agh!
Being tired makes me guilty. Guilty because when I should be setting up some paints for Ez, whilst jiggling shiny objects with Seth and doing the washing and cleaning, I instead have been switching on Cbeebies whilst I try to figure out where we put the washing up liquid. (Of course its in the bathroom!) God Bless CBEEBIES.
So, anyway, I feel slightly more alert and will be wrenching the lads away from boogie beebies (much to their distress) and encouraging them to interract with me and each other in structured activities involving shiny paper, instead of "lets all read a book in Mummy's bed?"
I wonder how long the fun will last before we are all in tears and Fireman Sam is lulling them into a comfortable viewing coma.
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2 comments:
I tend to catch up on sleep on holiday. After three or four days of lying in a hotel room unconscious and dribbling I wake to find I am myself again. It's as if I have spent months not being the real me but just what my tiredness let me be.
"She looks like a puppet on a string. Tra la la!" Oh god, I'm so ashamed of myself.
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