How to sleep. Or not.

The first conversation I have every morning with Mr. Woog is about the quality of the last nights sleep. Because when you get to a certain age there is not much left to talk about. Sleep, the weather, the state of the world, which kid is pissing us off the most, you know. The important stuff.

Sleeping is a bona fide hobby of mine. Some people play golf. I sleep.

I am generally a good sleeper but there are three nights that I recall that my sleep was not pleasant. One of them happened this week. But more of that later.

The first memorable nightmare sleep was the night that we bought baby Horatio home. After a rather fractious departing from the hospital (which you can read about here) we bunkered down for the afternoon while Horatio slept for hours and we were as smug as fuck looking at each other saying “How easy is this!” And then night fell. I still find it extraordinary that two people, who have never really even held a baby before, are allowed to take care of an infant. Unsupervised.

Horatio woke, I did some boob wrangling, changed his nappy, had a little chat with him until he got the shits, Mr. Woog wrapped him up and tried to get him off to sleep. For hours. And hours and hours and hours. Horatio, in hindsight, was WAY overtired and screamed the entire night away. At 3am he eventually fell asleep for 45 minutes and we looked at each other and thought “What the fuck have we done!”

Another nightmare night was years ago, pre-kids, when I was spending a week working from the Melbourne Office. I was staying at a nice hotel, had a shower after a hard day of talking bullshit, and jumped into bed. I love hotel beds in general and this one was very nice. I read a few pages of my book before turning off the light. I then spent the rest of the night tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken. I got myself so stressed out about not being able to go to sleep that I kept checking the time and getting myself so worked up, that sleep avoided me until about 4am. I was a zombie the next day.

And then there was this week.

I couldn’t find the cat and I do not sleep until he is locked inside because there is a large cat that roams the streets who has it in for Chuy and wants him dead. And because I am sick of emptying my bank account into the account of Hot Vet Dr. Nick. So I left the back door open, jumped into bed with my book, waiting for him to arrive. I got a bit sleepy and thought I would just shut my eyes for a moment…..

I was woken shortly after with Chuy standing on my chest doing happy paws. I opened my eyes to see him looking as pleased as punch with a large, filthy rat in his mouth doing death spasms and twitches.

I screamed, jumped from my bed like Flo Jo and ran into the kitchen. Mr Woog was sleeping in the spare room due to the fact that he had, the night before, tried to create a shortage of Shiraz with his mates. He was sleeping the sleep of a thousand wines and therefore was rendered useless. As I tried to assess the entire situation, in trotted Isobel the dog, with the now deceased rat in her mouth. She was dead pleased with herself as her tail was wagging madly. I screamed again.

She gazed at me with a puzzled look in her eyes. I had to step up. I asked her nicely to drop the rat and she was all like “Fuck off, it is my rat and I love it…” so I got her a smacko which she thought was a fair trade. I scooped up ratty in a plastic bag and deposited it outside in the bin. I was deeply traumatised and took myself back to bed shutting the door on the evil rat murderers. It took some time for me to get back to sleep due to post rat traumatic stress syndrome. An hour or so later, I was out.

But then, at about 4am, the smoke alarm went off. The smoke alarm that was situated about our bed. Are you fucking kidding me? I reached under the bed to get the baseball bat that I keep there in case the boogie man comes for me, and swung wildly in the general direction while standing on my bedside table. Eventually I made contact and the top popped off it which caused it to immediately stop beeping.

They say sleep is like death without the commitment but I say I feel like death without sleep.

When it comes to slumber, are you a bloody champion at it?

Ever had a shocking nights sleep?