Byyyye, Byyyye in the Night

Night time again.
Am I the only parent in the world whose day begins at 22 hours? Sometimes I wonder.

I have just survived two consecutive days of through-entire-night screaming.
The scenarios went something like this:
Bottle? Nod. Whimpered Yea... Shove. No bottle.
Cookie? Nod. Nod. Excited Yea... Shove. No cookie.
Diaper? Vigorous Yea... begin changing diaper - MEGA SCREAM. No diaper.
Get it? That's nice, because I don't.

By the first signs of sunrise I was composing the Ad I was determined to place on ebay first thing in the morning:
Coppercurled Baby with toothy grin and penchant for music. Very musical - anything goes - self compositions included, nocturnal symphonies in particular. Going for a song.

Luckily for the both of us she fell into a drunken stupor (drunk on woe) just in time for me to gain some sanity with a couple of hours of first-aid sleep. I bundled her off to nursery before I did anything else this morning and returned to send off the others before meditating on the joys of motherhood. After that I decided to keep her. (But if anyone out there is looking for a baby, keep your eyes posted. Who knows - my baby might get really reckless and stay up one hour too many next time round - that might just be your lucky day).

Seriously now - my husband and I have spent over eighteen months waiting for our baby's fussy stage to roll by. It is rolling - in the wrong direction. Volume up instead of volume down. We have become satellite residents of the local health-care clinic - turning up there three times a week on average, begging for salvation. Our pediatrician doesn't have much sympathy by now. He told us long ago that Coppercurls is a High-Needs child. With all the hubris of a mother of six, and two centuries worth of British prejudice I poo-pooed his diagnosis with a rapid chuckle. "Yanks. Everything has to have a label. Perhaps I have some sort of sleep disorder, too - after all I haven't slept in months..."
Today I looked my arrogance in the face, and googled High-Needs Child with decided despair. You are invited to do the same. I simply do not have the patience to cut and paste ninety-seven million pages for your further education. But it certainly proves the point - it wasn't a figment of my pediatrician's Hollywood-inspired imagination. I shall have to remember to send a card and some chocolates before he sues for libel (don't ya know - you can get sued for anything in the USA).
Anyway - I guess I owe my darling tot an apology as well. (Mind you - I don't think one from her would be remiss either... ).

The last thing she tried on me before laying her cute little head down to sleep last night was "byyyyye, byyyyye...." - with a puppy-eyed look that would melt the rock of Gibraltar and a dimpled elbow outstretched, finger pointing at her bedroom door.

Byyyye, Byyye... Now ain't that just a marvellous idea? But who's going to put you to bed then, m'dear?

First Times & Night Times

So... it's time to get started.

One has a wonderful feeling when starting a fresh new page. Tabula Rasa etc.. etc..

It is also a little confusing - where to begin.. There is so much to say, and so much to leave out. So much I might like to share about my life, and yet so much that might not interest anyone. I daresay many first-time bloggers share these thoughts, but then, I am not just any first-time blogger - I am I.

It is now closing on to ten pm.

For many people that might be just the beginning of their playtime. For me - a mother of six children who works from home during the quiet(er) morning hours when they are out the house, ten pm is just the beginning of my anytime.

By now they are usually fed, bathed and - hopefully - in bed. Sometimes the angels are kind and they are even all asleep by ten. But not often. There is always one of them who finds it hard on any given evening, for no particular reason, to fall asleep. But at least, once in bed, they cede the home territory to mom. They entrench themselves by the posts of their beds, and I have my space to myself - with blissfully nothing much to dictate my time for me. Nighttimes were created with the express purpose of preserving busy moms sanity, I am convinced.

I blow them all kisses (with profuse gaiety) and waltz off to my office with a blessed cappucino. Sometimes I shower and retire right away with a scintillating novel and a sugar-laden treat. Lately, my preferred routine is to sit myself by my computer with no other agenda than shooting the breeze. Surfing the net for information about bits of trivia that may have triggered my curiosity during the day; or finding about the all-important news headlines (without which one will be, by default, a total moron when chatting with friends tomorrow); or reading poetry on poetry sites; or shopping for playmobil on ebay.

And, of course, I cannot neglect to mention my number one pastime of all times - communicating with my extensive set of friends and family though cyberspace. Altogether, an inordinate amount of super-crucial information is passed on to by these people each day. Nay - each hour...

Original jokes, and petitions to save the planet; charms that will save my life (if I will only forward them within five seconds to twenty five girlfriends...) and ten ways to make my first million (if I will only be so smart as to fork out thirty dollars for instructions...); Powerpoint presentations on the majestic killer whale and memorials of Ground Zero.

Most important of all - that flashing red warning to ignore the next email that comes my way with a promise of luck and good fortune. IT WILL MOST CERTAINLY BE THE KILLER VIRUS THAT IS ROARING THROUGH CYBERSPACE.

Ahh.. what a world is at hand when I'm in front of the web. It is a pleasure to attend to it.