Sleep is for the weak


Can you tell that I clearly haven’t had much of the precious commodity known as sleep?

Little man is right smack in the middle of his Mental Leap 5 (WE ARE HALFWAY THERE!!) and it’s been sheer hell around here. Okay, okay, I exaggerate. But still.

These days, nobody – and I mean NOBODY – but mama can hold and cuddle Mister A to sleep. Never mind that Daddy has always been the one putting him to bed. While I used to be able to kiss him goodnight and stroll out of the room breezily, things have certainly changed. He sobs and wails if mama isn’t holding him, as if Daddy is mistreating him and chewing on his juicy thighs. And when mama here has him in my arms, all 7.25kg of him, he leans his head on my chest and starts “talking”. And then we go through this whole cycle a few rounds before he is finally able to fall asleep: he squirms around like the very fat caterpillar, I put him in his cot, he cries, I carry him, he squirms around like the very fat caterpillar…

And the night wakings! How can we forget about that. He’s up every two hours on average. There’s some crying involved, as well as a whole bunch of cussing. Some nights, he wakes up more than usual and I look at my clock, horrified to find out that it’s only 1.45am and not 5am as I had thought.


We plough on, of course. I mean, what else can we do? It’s been six months of parenthood and no one night is the same. We have learnt to go with the flow and not have any expectations.

On the positive side, how often do we get surprises in life? Now, EVERYDAY IS A SUPPLISE!

Thank God the child is cute, I tell you.