Splintered Reflections

Today is grey, misty, damp and just a little bit depressing. Today I have been awake since 3 am. Yesterday I did not go to bed until gone midnight.

Today was never going to be great.

My son is either teething or experiencing a growth spurt at the moment, and it is during such times that his regular selection of nicknames like “Tuft Monkey”, “Cute Monkey”, “Cuddle Monkey” (we like monkeys in this household) and “Noo Noo” are replaced by aliases such as “Feist Bucket”, “Moody Boy”, “Whinge Bucket” or just plain “Misery”. (The latter is a favourite of my daughter, as she finds it easier to get her mouth around, being only two).

Last night, on perhaps one of the most vital nights that I was hoping to turn in early, he unfortunately had a “Misery Attack” and ended up emptying a “Bucket of Feist” over me until the wee small hours. I was to be up at 3am to drive my Mother to the airport after she had been staying for a few days. Her flight wasn’t until 7am and, at that time of the morning, the journey would take under an hour. But that’s another story entirely…

Three triple espressos later, after my return from the airport, the day hadn’t much improved. For some time now, my kids’ routine seems to have flown completely out of the window. Instead of napping in the afternoon together, the Feist Bucket has been conking out as early as 10 am; my daughter’s most energetic time. When my daughter; the “Energizer Bunny” finally collapses into an exhausted heap, the Feist Bucket begins to stir from his lair.

I call this phenomenon “relay sleeps” and it has been driving me insane, not to mention making me feel like I am under House Arrest.

Finally, yesterday, after months of this craziness, I managed to get them to sleep in the afternoon together once more. I felt like I had conquered Everest whilst simultaneously being nominated for a Nobel Prize.

Just after lunchtime today, desperate for a bottle of milk (or something stronger) and a nap myself, I decided to put my kids into the huge bed with me. This was going against ALL of my usual hard-line principles, but what can I say, I was desperate. Just before our naptime, I was sent a link to “A Minute for Madeleine”, the new appeal launched today, by Kate and Jerry McCann, Madeleine’s parents, in the hope of finding their daughter.

To be honest, I watched it and yes, I was moved, but I would not say that it had a massive effect on me. Although I would like to think that this was due to exhaustion, rather than indifference.

I carried on, and snuggled down with my kids to sleep in our huge bed. I think it was only then, as I began to drift into unconsciousness, listening to their contented, sleepy little grunts whilst power-sucking on their little cups of milk, that I guess my consciousness shifted.

A blissfully warm, winter-duvet-coated hour or so later, my daughter and I awoke and tiptoed out of the bedroom, leaving my little boy in the huge bed, still motionless and deep in slumber, catching flies with a wide open mouth. I think he needed it after his “heavy night”.

We crept around the living room, playing together and watching TV until he awoke about 45 minutes later. He announced his arrival by the largest yawn known to a 1 year old and greeted us with a rather interesting “new look” courtesy of his hair-stylists “Pillow & Duvet of Villeneuve”.

My daughter cast a rather bewildered eye over him, before declaring quite seriously, “Mummy, he needs his hair done…” and wandering off purposefully in search of her hairbrush for him.

Of course, hysterical laughter followed and out came the camera, to capture such a beautiful and funny moment the three of us had just shared. Not to mention to record such an experimental hair style on film. (I was thinking along the lines of potential opportunities for embarrassment on milestones such as his 18th and 21st birthdays; one of the advantages of parenthood.)

How does this relate to Madeleine? Kate and Jerry McCann do not know if they will ever enjoy such precious moments with their beautiful little daughter again. They may have indeed already shared all the moments with her that they were ever going to get. Maybe the best they can hope for from now on is simply the ability to hang on to them.

Their story, their plight, their pain, just makes me want to cherish what I have with my two little angels, sleep or no sleep, tantrums or no tantrums.

I am truly blessed.