Sadly Friday night was not repeated. I thought I'd had three hours straight Saturday night but but it was 2 hours plus an automatic loss of hour due to British Summer Time. Side note: how can it now be BST when they're still predicting snow later this week? Ridiculous.
And last night? Last night Dad and I spent four hours assembling the flattest of flat packs (you know it's not going to be a simple job when there are 20 different kinds of screws, and the flat bits are labelled not just A-Z but then move to AA, AB, AC, etc right the way through to AM), creating something rather fabulous for Little Fish, but not finishing until nearly midnight. Photos to follow when she's had time to see it for herself.
Meanwhile Mog decided to keep life interesting, alarming and needing repositioning at 9.30, 11.30, 1.20, 2.30, 3.20, 4.00, 4.20, 4.30-5.12 (oops slept through that one), 6.10, and 6.50. And Little Fish decided to reflux somewhere around 4AM, obviously keen to ensure she wasn't ignored overnight. One sheet with nice neat coffee grounds on it, one stomach full of air; deflated, she then slept through til 8. Now why couldn't she have done the sleeping late bit over the weekend?
Photos for Tina - sorry I didn't get them to you before bedtime but there were one or two things grabbing my attention!and with the chin strapFull Face mask photos not here yet as still waiting for replacement full face mask - come on, Mr Postman.
It's not as if I'm not used to being awake at nights. Goldie used to have a monthly sleep cycle - awake all day and night at the top of the cycle, and asleep for a week at the bottom. Somewhere in the middle a happy medium. But even on her most awakiest of nights she didn't actually need me. She'd lie in bed, fizzing over with the joy of being alive, waving her hands in front of her face and ScrEeEEEEeeeeEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEching, and rocking the bed so that we had to move it into the middle of the room. And, barring the odd occasion when she'd call for me*, most of the time she'd just entertain herself. So I'd shut every door between her and me, stick a pillow over my head, and be thankful that she was happy. And try hard not to care about how noisy happy was. This is less fun.
And now excuse me, bed is calling.
*My favourite night time memory; being summonsed in our old house, which meant staggering down a flight of wooden steps from my room to hers, not pleasant in the depths of winter and never fun at 4AM. I walked into her room and asked her what she wanted. It's possible I was not terribly polite. And she grabbed my hands from her bed, and lifted her head up to call "you put your left hand in, your left hand out, OOOOooohhhhh the Hokey Cokey!" Hard to be cross about that really.