The last couple of days I’ve been crazy tired. I’ve been waking up in the morning feeling like it’s 10.30 pm: time to go to bed. I’ve been mainlining coffee, despite all my recent efforts to give up. And I’ve been trudging round the house complaining whinily to anyone who will listen (poor Mr A) ‘I’m so tired. I’m just so TIRED.’
I don’t know what why it’s hitting me so intensely just now. Maybe it’s the latest heatwave we’re sweltering under here: it makes everything a little harder to deal with.
But it’s got me thinking. Maybe it’s time.
Maybe it’s time to night-wean.
Miss Bee is almost 20 months old. For her whole life, without exception, I have given her whatever she asked for during the night.
(And to her credit, she’s only ever asked for one thing. And luckily for me, I have a limitless supply of it. And luckily for her, what she’s asking for is good for her. It’s not like she’s waking up demanding a Happy Meal, right?)
Since she was four months old, we’ve been up twice or three times, on average, every night, doing the ‘mook’ thing.
I just feel like I’m reaching that point that up until now has merely been hypothetical: the point of having had enough. The dream of an unbroken night’s sleep being too sweet, too glorious to continue to ignore.
I’m gonna see if I can get a friend of mine to share her experiences of night-weaning with us … make a bit of a thing of it here while I contemplate the idea, and get used to it.
Croons: ‘Night-weaning … [mummy] deserves a quiet night …’