lack of sleep

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Party All Night Long

We thought we'd have a quiet New Year's celebration. You know, just with our little family, have a nice meal and stare at dumb eighties re-runs (thank you Flemish television for THAT crap, we'd almost forgotten what kind of stupid shite we'd had to watch before cable finally conquered Belgium).

So after staring at the fireworks displays - both the official and amateur ones - I gulped down the last of the white wine and went to bed. Mrs.B had nested herself under the duvet since before long, just waking up for a couple of minutes to yawn 'Happy New Year' and then retreating again. So all was quiet.

And then some morons started to shoot fireworks again after 2 o'clock. Tyl had been whimpering all evening long, but now he got infuriated. He would have none of it, and he'd protest until everyone would get the message. And with 'everyone' I mean the general population of the greater Antwerp area.

He was inconsolable. A simple drink of water didn't suffice. We took him into our bed, but he continued to cry and kick and scream. Every time he calmed down, the idiots down the street fired up a new weapon of doom, and Tyl would counterstrike without hesitation. This went on until four in the morning, then Tyl had finally calmed down and fallen asleep.

I didn't dare to produce a sigh of relief, I was so cramped up with fear that the slightest sound would alarm him again. And then, as if they'd picked up the very thought, those mad criminals would detonate one last charge. I went through the roof, but luckily Tyl was too exhausted to react.

So finally I lay my head to rest... only to be woken up a couple of hours later by Wolf. He'd gone to the toilet, and he needed someone to clean his bottom. So he shouted for me... I veered out of bed like I had a very large piece of firework fired from between my buttocks. By the time I'd reached Wolf - all hushing and shushing - he'd yelled out three more times. Fortunately, Tyl still slept like a baby rose.

Wolf wouldn't return to bed, so being a good parent I parked him behind the TV with a bunch of biscuits and a large glass of apple juice. Then I crawled back to bed, for a bit of a nap - until noon. Anyway...

Happy New Year to everyone!

Tsunami In Bed

People who are fed up with reading blog stories about fathers going on about how their babies vomited all over the bed in the middle of the night and how they spent more than an hour cleaning up and changing the bedding while their spouses made another bottle of milk because the kid isn't holding any food down and loosing weight fast, should now click away.

My son vomited all over the bed in the middle of the night. I spent an hour cleaning up, changing all the bedding. In the mean time, Mrs.B was trying to get him to eat again and had to make a bottle of milk because Tyl had dried up the wells just before he puked. Because of a severe cold and a soar throat, he isn't eating well - and then there's the puking of course, so he's loosing weight fast.

We've been losing a lot of sleep this last week, and if Tyl's problems weren't enough, Wolf has been yelling me out of bed too on a far too regular basis.

I want to sleep!

Status Update

Number of newborn babies: 0

Number of hurt feet: 1

Number of sleepless nights: countless

We're still waiting for the baby to arrive, despite many early warning signs that he/she's about to pop out. Mrs.B has a belly the size of a small moon, and any day now I expect to come home to find she got stuck in one of the door openings. She has problems sleeping and every time she wants to turn over it's a whole operation that involves moving pillows and blankets and stuff. Her bladder is about the size of a walnut, so she needs to get up a lot to go to the downstairs loo. Both these procedures involve loud moans and sighs and mumbling to make sure I'm well aware of her discomfort. So I have a lot of sleepless nights too.

On the plus side, her foot is finally getting better. Last week she was allowed to ditch the crutches, and this week she could trade in her combat boots for more suitable lady-like footwear. Frankly, she looked hilarious on warm days, with her shorts or skirt and those big mountain climbing 4x4 tanks on her feet. But because I love her so much, I didn't snigger even once. I really am the ideal husband.

It doesn't mean her gait is entirely normal, despite the physiotherapist's best efforts. It may have something to do with that dinosaur egg that she's carrying around.

In theory, we still have more than three weeks to go until D-day, but we both hope that it will be earlier. Because, you know, you get to rest a lot with a newborn baby and a hyperactive toddler in the house.

Virus Alert

We've had a fun couple of days, here at the Centre for the Development of Humongously Infectious Children's Epidemics. Wolf was a little bit ill, in the sense that rivers of yellow muck were squirting out of his ears. As if a double ear infection wasn't enough, he topped it of with a nice little bronchitis.

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