It's 3am and I listen to Smiley chatting on the baby monitor. Eventually I drag myself out of bed and go down to see if she needs something. I change her position, her nappy, offer a drink and put on some music, go back to bed. Hope she nods off.
She doesn't, and I ask myself if I should give her something to help her sleep, because if the don't the day will be ruined for her too.
Worry about whether Angel's attempt to dip dye her hair at home will work. I guess I'll know in the morning.
Wonder how I will get through tomorrow if I don't get back to sleep. Who will I shout at, which activity will get cancelled. Who will be eating toast for dinner (clue: probably me).
Beat myself up for torturing myself by reading yet another thread on Facebook where saintly parents of autistic children write about the struggles of their children and how they never ever feel sorry for themselves. Another page to 'unlike', I think!
Groggily remember writing about lack of sleep before and hope I'm saying something different this time.
What will I forget to do, how many more bruises will I gather as I blearily crash into things, will I manage all Smiley's care without leaving out something important or doing things in the wrong order. Which means you often have to start over.
I worry about my ailments and resist the temptation to google them and vow to make another GP appointment this week instead. Perhaps I am sick, perhaps a little stay in hospital would do me good. No cooking or cleaning or childcare, just the chance to rest with other people taking care of you. They might even give me sleeping tablets! Don't know if it would be much fun without the internet though...do hospitals even have broadband these days?
Start to think of all those health gurus who say that drinking wine affects your sleep. Yeah it does. It means I don't!
Treat myself to a Xanax. It might stop my mind racing.
Then a Horlicks. Sit and drink it in my slippers. Feel like a cliché.
Try to work out if there is such a thing as a silent chore. I did straighten my hair once in the middle of the night... Perhaps I could draft a few letters? But probably tear them up when I look at them with fresh eyes. In a few days.
Waste time on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest. Apparently it's getting bright. Peer out through the dusty windows. Oh dear, they're right. And Smiley is still awake. Welcome to another day in special needs land...
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