Dear June
thus far:
3 family members have had a tummy bug.
2 family members have had tonsillitis.
4 family members have had filthy colds.
Needless to say, I am not wildly impressed with your performance. We are midway through the month and so far, to put it bluntly, you have sucked.
Don't try to fob me off with excuses or a fake paper trail of your alleged achievements. I am on to you and your deceptive little ways.
I'm too sleep deprived to have a Pollyanna view on it, other than to say I am thankful for our awesome family GP who has done his diligent best to manage the trail of destruction you have left in your careless wake.
I might also point out I'm meant to be training for a half marathon and so far my training has been minimal non existent However I just read this post which has given me the kick I needed. Despite your continued attempts to derail me, I'm going to make it a non negotiable, otherwise I won't be able to run 21km in 10 weeks time.
If I am being completely honest, and hey, it's my blog so I'll whine if I want to, I wish Husband hadn't had to go away this week; I wish my children were well enough for school and pre kindy because I have a shedload of work to do and I need some time and space to do it; I wish the TV cable hadn't blown on a rainy cold day with 2 sick offspring here at home, but most of all, I wish, wish, wish
FOR ONE UNINTERRUPTED NIGHT SLEEP.
June you have been put on notice.
Kind regards

A couple of sweet readers were kind enough to email me and ask well, where am I?
Excellent question.
I am most definitely still here.
But to explain my current absence from posting, please read this pathetic little post. I apologise in advance for errors in spelling or grammar. For those, you can blame my offspring.
This is a standard night in my household at the moment.

10 pm Offspring asleep. Kittens despatched to laundry for the night and their warm cosy beds. Exhausted parents retire as well.

10.48pm Miss Medium comes in to tell me she has a sore tummy. Tummy is checked. Feels soft and she has no sign of fever. Having exhausted my medical skills at this point, I take her back to bed and tuck her in. She falls asleep within minutes.

11.20pm Mr Small calls out from his bed. It is a DefCom 1 call. This means he doesn't require our attention, but it is more a warning sound that the situation may escalate to DefCom2 later on.

12.15 Miss Medium is back. Apparently her tummy is "really hurting." We spent some quality time together while she sits on the toilet, but to no avail. Back to bed.

1.10 Mr Small calls out and it is clear that we have bypassed DefCom 2 and gone to DefCom 3. To avoid him waking the kittens I race across the household for a comforting snuggle and chat. He falls asleep in my arms. I tiptoe back to bed avoiding creaky floorboards AT ALL COSTS to prevent the kittens from waking up.

1.12 Kittens wake up and cry pitifully from laundry. They express their concern about the fall-out from the Global Financial Crisis and their anxiety about Rudd's new super tax.

3.00 Sleep. At last.

3.45 Miss Medium is back. I tuck her into bed with us.

3.48 Miss Medium vomits all over the back of my head. Suddenly she feels much better.

3.52 Husband strips bedsheets while Miss Medium and I take a shower. Whilst I scrub, I mention that she probably ate too much at Babcia's the night before. She bursts into floods of tears. I can see my award for "Mother of the Year" slipping away quickly.

4.30 Everyone is in bed. I cannot sleep.

5.00 I still cannot sleep.

5.30 Fast asleep.

5.45 Kittens wake up and start sharing their concern about what I'm going to cook for dinner tonight.

6.30 Husband's alarm goes off and the day begins. Again.

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!