Well quite the strangest thing happened. I woke up in the dead of night because the doorbell rang. So I jumped out of bed, naked as the day I was born, wrapped myself up in the scrumptious grey
At four 0’clock in the morning. To answer the door bell. Hmmm.
See the thing is this: I haven’t got a doorbell. I have never had a doorbell.
I am as fuddled as they come.
So back up the stairs I went, to find Finley standing at his baby gate, looking for all the world like a nudey Wee Willie Winkie. Complete with green monster hat. And nothing else.
So trying to stop shaking, I dressed him in his choice of jamas, tucked him back into bed, told him a rather delirious hobgoblin story, climbed back into my own snuggly bit of heaven and prayed for sleep undisturbed by phantom bellringers.
Or little boys. But no such luck.
"Mummy, I really need to come and sleep in your bed, Mummy I need to."
"Go to sleep Finley" said I.
"But Mummy I need to. Shall I give you a clue why I need to sleep in your bed Mummy?"
"Yes Finley?"
"It’s cos I love you Mummy."
The little charmer! Even the most exhausted mummy in the world couldn’t resist a line like that.
So I hopped out of bed, picked up my once again nudey little monster and drifted back to sleep with his hot little body and sharp little elbows poking into me.
Don’t tell him, but it was kind of blissful. The kind of bliss that come hell, high water, or doorbells in the dead of night, will never be repeated.
Lordy how mean am I?
Yes indeed, it wont last forever. And I say revel in it to the point of over saturation, because it's just a few short years before they don't wish to cuddle in bed with you all night long. Although, I think, the more you cuddle with them now, the longer they will continue to cuddle with you. Even if it's just for a quarter hour in the morning to talk of the previous night's dreams.
Ahhhh… mama bliss
P.S. It looks as if you are feeling yourself again just a bit maybe? Good for you!
Oh how I giggled when I read this! A few weeks ago I was awoken in the wee small hours by a piercing beeping. After several attempts to slap my alarm clock off I blearily worked out that it was my fire alarm announcing it needed new batteries. I clattered out of bed in search of the instructions for the wretched thing, wrenched open my filing cabinet, grabbed the paper work, turned and walked straight into the open draw, slicing open my leg.
Long story short, I couldn’t free the battery and in a panic that it was wakening my next door neighbour I snipped the wires connecting it all. Silence, bliss. I slunk back to bed feeling like I had just defused a bomb to nurse my bleeding leg.
Finley sounds like a wonderful little tyke! Thankfully I don’t have one yet to worry about waking! Though my close friend have a 15 month old little girl who complains fiercely that my cottage doesn’t have a ‘ding dong’, perhaps I too should watch out for phantom door bells!
I really enjoyed your post about the doorbell Alison! before I was a vintage housekeeper I was a doctor (anaesthetist specificly) – my husband has lost count of the times the alarm clock roused me from a deep sleep with a jump rsulting in me running around demanding to know where the cardiac arrest was! The poor man once found me (still asleep) hovering around his mouth trying to remove a non existent breathing tube!