Sunday, 13 February 2011

Still here. Just.


I haven't felt much like posting. Not that I haven't had RTBCs. Ben was here all week, which was lovely. The mini-beasts think he's the best thing since buttered baguette. I'm pretty fond of him too.

In less happy news, I discovered on Monday that I have a gigantic ovarian cyst. That sounds bad doesn't it? I have to have an operation, 24 hours hospitalisation. 24 hours. In hospital. On my own. A whole night. On my own. Thank you gigantic ovarian cyst.

Any opportunity to escape a typical night round here at the moment is reason for great joy. Happy little Wrigglesworth is starting to show signs of settling down at night, he sleeps through sometimes. But the Monster... ah the Monster. Never has her pseudonym seemed so apt. Getting her to go to bed is a challenge of Herculean proportions. The bedtime routine involves at least five trips to the toilet. The child seems endlessly capable of squeezing out drops of wee. And all her minor bumps and bruises need cream and kisses (current medical practice). She then wakes repeatedly during the night and goes from sleepy little dormouse to furious hellcat in the time it takes her to open her eyes. This frequently wakes Wrigglesworth. Last week when it was just me I felt like I was going to explode. Yesterday we went out and bought her a proper big girl's bed, she chose the colour (blue), the bed sheets (blue with red planes and fluffy clouds), and we bought her some new pyjamas (with monsters on, nice monsters) to complete the onslaught of niceness, in an attempt to claim back our nights and our sanity. Didn't work. Today as I wondered zombie-like about town I decided I just have to accept this. We are not the only parents to go through long-term sleep deprivation. We'll live. And as I am now no longer breast-feeding I can inappropriately medicate the pain away with a couple of glasses of red wine.

Today has been subdued. The Monster and I spent ages playing at tucking plastic knives behind our ears. Such silliness is balm to my deeply fatigued soul. We also discovered Peppa Pig. Brilliant. I love Peppa's little brother, George. This is George:


  1. Oh Bex! Your post made me really sad as well as smile. You always were the one to find a silver lining to a cloudy day...

  2. I've had problem with cysts in the past year too - linked with the mini pill - but I've not needed surgery. I hope it's a brilliant night sleep. Make sure you tell them you need a lie in!

    Sleep deprivation is hellish. I really struggled the first year with Duncan because of it. Lots of sympathy and a this too shall pass- just hang in there!

  3. Sorry (or happy, which do you want it to be?) to hear about your operation. But Peppa Pig can cheer even the most exhausted of souls - the one at the fairground is the best. As with the Simpsons, it's actually all about Dad, but Mummy Pig comes off pretty well at the fair. Even better is Ben & Holly's Little Kingdom, which Bryn absolutely loves and forces Marina to watch, even though she thinks its comedy accidents are "cary" and covers her eyes. Nanny Plum is a comedy genius.


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