Category: Sunday Scribblings

I am not feeling at all original today so I will shamelessly steal this idea from alyndabear:

1. I’m over 30 years old but I will occasionally run and jump on the bed when I walk into my darkened room, just in case the monster is still under my bed. He could take a swipe at my legs and draw blood, you know.

2. No matter what my feet MUST be under the covers. I think it has something to do with the monster. What has he got against my feet anyway? No socks, by the way.

3. When it’s cold – I have to lie on the covers for a while, until the sheets underneath are sufficiently warmed. I hate getting into a bed with cold sheets. This annoys my husband immensely.

4. I hate cold sheets but my pillow must be cold. I have to move my head from time to time and then turn the pillow over to ensure my cheek doesn’t get too warm.

5. Unfortunately for my husband, my 5 year old has inherited most of my sleeping quirks.

6. We have a double bed and a mattress on the floor next to the bed. The boys start off in their room, in their own beds and 7 month old sleeps with us. By morning the whole family is in our room. The cats are there too sometimes. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

7. My sister-in-law surprised me with a beautiful quilt cover and a HUGE load of cushions for the bed. It’s much more fun making the bed now.

8. I almost always wake up with a sore back. Could possibly have something to do with 6.

9. Alhamdulillah I have no trouble falling off to sleep. I think I have done it in mid-conversation more than once. No, it isn’t narcolepsy – it’s called “having 3 children who still haven’t learnt to sleep through the night without the aid of another glass of water/milk or a cuddle or sleeping in our bed or a nurse or patting or another nurse, thanks mum or cuddle again and another nurse” syndrome. Apparently there are many of us inflicted with this condition and we bear it like heroes & just soldier on because we love them or some such non…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“So how was school today?”

“It was OK.”

“Just OK? What did you learn about?”

“Oh, you know – stuff. Can I have a chocolate when we get home?”

“Maybe after you’ve had something healthy to eat. So what new words did you learn today?”

“Hmmmm I can’t remember.”

“Did your teacher read you a book?”


“So what happened? You can’t have spent 6 hours away from me and have nothing to tell me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mummy. I played outside with T**** and H**** and I ate most of my lunch.”

Everyday it’s the same. He leaves me and on his return the last thing he wants to do is talk about his day. I on the other hand am itching to know what occupies his time, what he talked about, who he spoke to, what activities the class did.

Did he get into trouble today?

Did he finish his cutting and pasting?

Was anybody mean to him in the playground?

Did he miss me?

See: Sunday Scribblings

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