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Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Я вымотан

This translates from Russian as "I'm exhausted".
No, really, it does (try the wonders of Babel Fish for yourself).

Missy is just getting over her cold and cough, Joseph is walking a fine line of either coming through it ok or falling into the cough's evil clutches, I feel rough-ish (still) and M is soldiering on through it all. I was awake for a good part of last night and I feel shattered. I think last night was M's 7th night of broken sleep in a row and still she keeps going.

Is this generally a woman thing? Or is it just my wife who is amazing?

Oh boy, me and sleep deprivation just don't go well together at all. If I'd known in my early 20's that I would one day be missing out on sleep without the fun partying bit, I would've spent that period of the 1990's asleep in bed, never mind the bars and nightclubs!

Anyway, what's done is done, I'm here; tired but ok. Where was I?

Oh yes. Missy is being particularly sweet at the moment. She's walking with much more confidence but still a little un-balanced. She walks towards you, shoulders hunched to rectify any over-balancing problem she might be encountering and when she gets to about 2 or 3 feet from you, she starts to fall forward, still walking and laughing, fully expecting you to be there when she collapses into you.

She did it this morning and as she fell onto me she said, "Dadda", laughing all the while.

It's a very special feeling being called Dad, Daddy, Dadda, whichever. Very special. It's not just how your children refer to you or how they know you. It also means, "this person looks after me, this person makes sure I'm tucked up safe at night".

It's a big responsibility.

Last thing at night, before I get into bed, I go into Joseph's room to check that he's covered up and lying the right way up (he often travels up and down the bed ending up upside down underneath his quilt which wakes him). I pull up his covers, lift him up onto his pillow, generally try to make him comfortable without waking him.

You have a moment or two to stand there, contemplating how wonderful your children are, how beautiful they are, realising how protective you are towards them. Lots of thoughts go through your mind while you stand their, watching them sleep peacefully.

The weird thing is that they will never know about that; Joseph will never know about me standing there. I'll tell him in years to come but he will probably disregard it as unimportant.

And to him, it is unimportant. "So what if my Dad stood there watching me? What a weirdo!"

It only means something to me, both now and in the future.

Life is hectic you see.

Up in the morning, all get ready, to nursery, school, get myself to work, home again, to nursery to collect children, home, food, bathtime, story time, brush teeth, bed, tidy away, cook ourselves something, tidy away pots and pans, sort out mountain of paperwork, get into bed, get up, start over again!

You don't always have time to sit down and speak at length - you do your best, but it isn't always possible.

Standing there, watching your child sleeping peacefully, you can afford to take a moment to contemplate their beauty, their vulnerability.

Poops sleeps like me; deeply. I tuck him in and he doesn't move.

I would love to be able to go into Missy's room and cover her gently with her blanket, smooth her hair out of her eyes, whisper good night to her.

Unfortunately, she sleeps like M; very lightly.

If I so much as twist the door-handle to Annabel's bedroom, I can hear her snuffling her displeasure, like a sleepy tigress, ever so slightly narked at being awoken without permission!

Hopefully that will change - watching your sleeping children is something special and I would hate to not get the chance to see Missy asleep the way I see her big brother.

Sweet dreams.


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