Today I have a treat for you.
Victoria Hulmes, aka Mummy0kids1 for those who want to find her on Instagram, is not only a gifted writer who has a real way with words but is also my dear friend. That made me sound like I’m 88 years old but she really is dear to me, and my friend so … anyway … I’d like to present ‘Go to Sleep’ which is relatable, touching and hilarious.
Go to Sleep
I really would like to travel back in time and give smug me a talking to. “We’re so lucky – our children are great at going to bed.”
Now, nothing is further from the truth
7:30pm to 8pm
On the sofa:
They are all starving and require three different snacks and milk of varying temperatures
Milk is not provided in the appropriate cup so a new drink must be offered
Requests for more food are declined so shouting begins
Pleas to stay up late gather force because despite the fact they have all been yawning and rubbing their eyes they are categorically NOT tired, it’s still light outside and they have not been given appropriate warning that bedtime is upon them
En route to bed:
Everyone has an injury of some kind and can’t possibly make it to the stairs alive
“Can I have a yorkshire pudding?”
Everything is a distraction: Look Mummy, a dead ant. Do you think it had a nice life?
The protests about teeth cleaning begin because the toothpaste tastes funny and their toothbrushes are the wrong shape
Nobody can find their pyjamas so football kits and football kits and a unicorn costume are the only suitable alternatives
Much running from bedroom to bedroom begins
Now I start to shout and threaten to cancel all future celebrations and every treat known to man
This is met with complete disregard as I always go big with threats and never carry them through
I’m too hot.
Take off your Arsenal kit then
Minnie skips to our book shelf: Mummy can you read me three books? I’m handed Mr. Small, Unicorn Adventures and the autobiography of Nelson Mandela
After our goodnights
David and I are on the sofa staring at some Netflix dross. Unbeknownst to us George is watching it from behind the pillar in the kitchen. He sneaks downstairs quite frequently when the others are asleep. “Mummy, will you come up with me?”
So I take him upstairs to cuddle up to him in the darkness and stroke his hair. He’s eight now so affection is harder to come by with him. It’s all on his terms. But when sleeping dust settles on my younger two, when lashes flutter their tired eyes to sleep, one little night owl tiptoes downstairs looking for a sofa nest in-between Mummy and Daddy.
So bedtime, even though I hate you – thank you for reuniting us with our big, little man because nothing brings back the small child of a want-to-be teenager, than the fall of darkness and a cuddle from their Mummy.
By Victoria Hulmes. Blogger. Living life after losing her little boy Jack. Coping with the tears and loving the laughter. Cheese rolls, forward rolls, eye rolls and everything inbetween.
Find her on Instagram @Mummy0kids1