Recently I have discussed whinged constantly about sleep deprivation. Before you think I am horribly ungrateful I want to explain that I have always adored my offspring, my lambies.
When they were newborns I would leap out of bed at their first murmur, c-section stitches be damned.
Having lost a brother to SIDS there were nights where I would sit for hours by their cots watching their tiny chests rise and fall, knowing they wouldn't silently slip away from me. Not on my watch.
I tell you all this because I need you to know I'm pretty good on surviving on limited sleep. I happily and willingly do it.
BUT
In recent months as Mr Small has morphed from babyhood into the equally adorable toddlerhood; where he runs around looking like Donald Duck with his white nappied bottom constantly disappearing round corners, well, things have started to change.
I've become used to sleeping all night.
It's been lovely.
Bliss.
So recently when Mr Small started waking nightly I carried on.
Cuddles, kisses, a drink and back to bed.
Then things spiralled out of control.
He was in and out of our room no less than 15 times a night.
He was even turning on the lights in his bedroom and upending EVERYTHING in it.
We tried all the right strategies and some wrong ones too. Well wrong for him anyway.
I simply had no clue what was wrong with my lambie, and quite frankly I think I went slightly demented. I was seeing life through a fuzzy coloured lens. When my children asked me for ice-cream I would say yes. When they asked for second helpings, I would say yes, and thirds. You get the picture.
When husband phoned to say he was on his way home and did I need anything picked up, guess what I would ask for? and no, it wasn't green salad.
There is also the fact that this is my THIRD child. You'd think I'd know what I was doing by now. But I never had this problem with my older two. Or maybe I've blocked it out.
Anyway I'd laugh and chat with people during the day, only occasionally letting my neurotic angst overflow. Please also bear in mind I'm pretty physically tired. I'm only a week or so out from my final exams for the Bronze Medallion, and it doesn't matter how many times I was up in the night I still had to be at the beach some days for a couple of hours hard training.
So when my mother caught up with me the other day I told her despairingly of my woes and sorrows.
And she suggested a solution.
And I immediately tried it.
It was painless.
It was old fashioned.
And we don't talk about it in polite society. Apparently ever.
Everyone got to partake.
And since then?
Mr Small has slept soundly.
And so have I.
Can you guess what her solution was?
Turns out
mother ALWAYS knows best.
Well mine does, that's for sure.
ETA I will supply the correct answer in the comments section in the next day or so, unless one of you gets it first!