Thursday, May 10, 2012

Floating Through The Day Like a Body In A Lake

I should feel more tired than this.

My son certainly should. Instead he's running around like a drunkard twatting things with a toy digger. I say this because last night my son got up at 8.30 and didn't even attempt sleeping until around 2.30am. Initially his mother lay down with him - but he found that offensive and demanded I come to bed. Which I did before 9pm because his whining was so bloody intense. Some mornings when I get up around4am he might wake up and demand I get back in the room - so he has form (he doesn't want anything to do with me - he just expects me to stay where I'm supposed to be at 4am). So I thought it was probably that sort of thing. By 10.45 his mother was now so irritated with him violently wiggling and rotating into her body like a corkscrew that she wasn't even being diplomatic. As in she told him to shut up, leave her alone, go away and the kicker, "dude - what's your problem?" And my wife doesn't say dude or swear - so you could tell she was annoyed. About 20 minutes later me and him got up. The rule being that seeing as my wife not only has to go to work but actually is in charge of the whole shindig (and has one of those big meetings that Important People have) that I have to get up. Interesting how this rule still applies on weekends mind you, but there we are.

Anyhoo - we had very much declared that he was suffering a severe case of the Arseholes. As in his behavior was too annoying to show that he was just being an arsehole, so it was more plausible that he was behaving like several arseholes. Obviously there wasn't anything wrong with him. He had gone to bed without a worry. He hadn't throw up. He didn't want anything. When asked (repeatedly) if he wanted something he either flat out behaved like it was a stupid question or said he thought it was a cracking time to get up. So I tried to out-chicken him. Oh we'll get up. And I'll sit around listening to audiobooks, goofing around online and you can fall asleep on the couch. I may not even go back to bed and we'll sleep downstairs. See how much you like not being allowed to go back to your mother for comfort when you realize that the only guff on network TV at 1am is She-Ra.

As soon as we sat down he was fine. No whining. No corkscrewing to find the impossible comfort. No desperation to go back to sleep. No - he sat about drinking water, eating dry Chex and watching She-Ra ponce about with a half owl/half koala creature. See - nothing wrong with him. An hour later and he still hadn't show any signs of sleep but was holding his jaw by his ear and was mumbling something unintelligible. Ah - he either has an ear ache or tooth ache. Probably a deep molar coming in (although I didn't actually look and don't have absolute knowledge that he does or does not have them in yet). Halfway through an episode of Bravestar he'd had enough. His head started bobbing and he went right back to insanely driving his head into me to find a comfortable shape. Which didn't exist. I certainly wasn't allowed to use my laptop or sit down anymore. Oh no. Then he tried to leg it upstairs. I asked him if he wanted to go to bed and he said yes. Fair enough.

He lasted about three minutes upstairs dementedly driving his forehead into his mother's spine. Fuck that - we're getting up again. So we sat through Bravestar and I gasped at how that would never be allowed on network TV today. Not a chance. Not with that level of stereotyping and marvel-at-the-magical-indian-people in it. I sat about and listened to Christopher Hitchens debate Dinesh D'Souza and my son grudgingly allowed me to sit down next to him. He was clearly fighting to stay awake now. Ten minutes later he let his head bob forward erratically like he was sat in a first year college-level  politics lecture and was going to lose to sleep. I swear as soon as I he let go, then his breathing changed he puked all over himself. And that was why he was trying to stay awake. He must have felt the nausea all night long. An hour later he had a feeble attempt at another vomit session. He did ask to go into the bathroom first though which is odd. Then he dozed on and off with fits of demented rage every 25 minutes are so thrown in to ensure I couldn't possibly nod off. He held off until a nice sizable upchuck at 5.30am. I sent up to wake his mother up at 6.15am.

Hilariously he's been as cheery and bright as if he'd had a nice ten hour sleep. Git. He hasn't shown any signs of bad feeling or tiredness so far. But he will. Around 9.30am I expect him to get very angry about being awake and pass out. He better bloody do that. I'm surprisingly cheery but Ic an feel my own snappy anger already. I'm definitely feeling over-touched. My daughter has also had it explained carefully that me and her brother didn't go to bed - so he's sick and I'm likely to be a massive twat later on today. Actually I told her we hadn't slept and she immediately responded that he seemed to have found and compass (he had) and was now stabbing me in the arse with it. Or - in her terms - "thinks there is treasure under your bum cheeks." Just to be clear - there isn't. So I told her again he had been sick and she needs to tell me if she starts feeling iffy. Her mother took the lower road and asked her to please, please don't lick him today. Which gave me free license to firmly state, "...and no making out with your brother either. You'll get sick. You two are going to have to wait until we know he's better okay" She doesn't know what making-out is, so she just nodded.

Anyhoo - they both need attention now. My son wants to build a train track that he can smash with a digger, and my daughter wants to draw a bicycle made out of doughnuts for her mother. Of course she does. No sign of illness from her. Although she did randomly point otu to me a minute ago that, "Daddy - just so you know - shampoo does not actually have any poo in it."

That's what you think.....

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