A Weekend of Contradictions.

Friday was a true spring day- warm, sunny blue skies and that feeling of optimism. I picked the kids up from school and took them down to the beach. I just took some towels with us, and told the kids that if they wanted to paddle they could just keep their undies on. There was a pretty brisk breeze blowing and the water (of course, in early September) was like ice. Undaunted, they all stripped off and went skipping down to the sea and proceeded to get soaking wet. I sat on the sand and watched their ridiculous skinny bodies in saggy underpants cavort on the shore and thought to myself, "This is what it's all about." We stayed for about an hour, enough time to start getting a delightful shade of blue lipstick on them all. I dried them off and redressed them. Simon told me that he loves the feeling of getting into dry clothes after swimming, and I know what he means. Once we were back in the warm car I surprised them by telling them that I would take them to Mc Donald's for dinner, which is the absolute height of greatness. Simon cried joyfully, "Oh Mummy! This is the best Friday of my whole life!"

Saturday morning and the wind was already hot. I had to rummage in the wardrobe to find my shorts. Declan was cranky and pernickity and then began complaining of a headache and sore throat. I took his temperature and he had a low fever. But after he had rested for a while he felt better and in the afternoon Brett took them to the park and I took Josie for a walk. I have never seen anything as pathetic as that dog! She starts out like a maniac, pulling on the lead and darting from side to side to smell something vitally interesting. Gradually she slows down, and by then end of the walk she plods next to me, panting nineteen to the dozen, occasionally looking up at me with a wry look from the corner of her eye. Yesterday she actually lay down on the footpath and refused to move. The poor animal was totally knackered by the time we got home and put herself to bed under the outside table, where she snored so loudly that I could hear it inside the house. It's not like I take her on a marathon or anything! I guess once she calms down a bit more she won't waste so much energy at the beginning of the walk.

Brett and the kids got home at about 5pm and Dexie was starting to look unwell. By bedtime his temperature was back up, so I dosed him up and put him to bed in our bed. It was a warm night, and all the kids were restless in the heat. Ruby refused to go to bed at all and ended up falling asleep on my lap downstairs because I couldn't face fighting with her. I went to bed at about 10.30pm, and I promise you, it was well and truly 3 o'clock the next morning before I got any sleep. Far out, when will this end??? You expect sleepless nights when you have babies, and certainly when you have a sick child. But by now, surely, it's not too much to ask, is it?

Wehn i had first gone to bed I had moved Declan to the mattress next to the bed, and he was hot and fussy. So I just dozed lightly until it was time for his next round of medicine (Nurofen and Panadol combined! Works like a charm) That was at midnight, and as soon as I had done that, Simon called me to say that he was too hot in his pyjamas. I sorted him out and then went back to bed. Dexie was still like a little baked potato, and I don't like sleeping when they are like that, so I lay awake for a while until he started to cool down a bit. And naturally, as soon as my eyes closed, I heard Ruby call me. By now it was about 1 am and I was slightly tired. So I told Brett that it was his turn and he could go and get Ruby. Well, you would have thought I had sent the grim reaper into her room, the way she carried on. She started shrieking "I WANT MUMMY!!!!" over and over again and wouldn't let him pick her up. That started a full 2 hour altercation. She wouldn't stay in her bed, she wouldn't sleep on her Princess Bed on the floor. She wanted to sleep in our bed, but she really is way too big to sleep there all night. From the early morning is OK, but no one sleeps when that child is in our bed. She pats my face and rubs her hands across my eyes all night, whispering under her breath like a maniac. Very soothing. Then she started crying that her legs were scratchy. This is her newest complaint, and it is driving me round the twist. Almost every night I hear about her scratchy legs, and there is nothing on them to make them scratchy. They aren't scratchy in the day time. Finally I took her back to her bed, after about an hour of her shouting at me and waking every one up. Once she had calmed down a bit I realised that she was constantly swishing her legs back and forth, and it dawned on me, she has her father's Restless Legs. Oh fantastic! I lay onthe edge of her bed and firmly massaged her legs until she stopped moving them and went to sleep. Then I tiptoed back to my bed. And 2 minutes later I heard "Muuuummmmmy!". This repeated itself about 4 times, with me getting up, rubbing her legs, coming back to bed, before I gave in and brought her into our bed. By now it was almost 3 am.

So after a refreshing 3 hours of light sleep while stroking the hair of a sick child and rubbing the legs of a restless child, it is day time again, and it is grey and cool and rainy. I just keep thinking about being at the beach the other day.