Insomnia

I admit that this topic is not particularly 'modern' by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is of vital importance as I sit here struggling to get wake up enough to want to look at that exciting design document and plod through that source code one more time. I'm starting to develop a tolerance to espresso coffee too. That can't be good.

Last night, like most nights, I had about five hours sleep. I'd like seven or eight. The last time I went to bed and woke up feeling almost human was the night before my daughter was born. That was nearly 22 months ago. When she was very small she would wake up a couple of times every night demanding milk and the occasional nappy change. She couldn't help it - she was a newborn and that's what newborn babies do. Now, many months later, she is regularly sleeping through the night and still I can't sleep properly. She has conditioned me into a living hell of self-induced sleep deprivation. And I am not happy about it.

Every night is the same. Little Miss goes down at about 8 to 8.30pm in her bedroom, next door to ours. Me and Mrs K go to bed a couple of hours later. Mrs K, bless her, is fast asleep and making appreciative sleeping noises within five minutes of the lights going out. I just lay there, eyes closed, begging for oblivion. Then I hear a thud, followed a squeak and a sleepy crying noise. So I investigate.

I am convinced that Little Miss K sleep crawls. When Mrs K settles Little Miss, her head is on the pillow and she is under her duvet. When I check on her, the pillow is upright at the other end of the bed, the duvet draped over the bars of the cot and she is lying uncovered at ninety degrees to where we left her. And, without fail, she is fast asleep muttering under breath about Tinky Winky and Noo Noo.

So I stumble back to bed, stubbing my toe on the bedstead in the process. And lie there trying to ignore my poor throbbing foot. Eventually I start to drift off and... Thud! Eeek! Wahhhhhh! Snuffle, snuffle Tubbies Noo Noo (yawn)... I'm wide awake, darling daughter is sleeping again and Mrs K. is completely oblivious. Repeat until 3am or the coming of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, whichever is sooner.

As most parents will attest, small children have two deep sleep settings - snuffling piglet and catatonic. Snuffling piglet will keep you awake in the short term, but at least you can shut that out when you are sufficiently tired. Catatonic is another matter. Every night, roughly around 4am, I wake up suddenly and feel compelled to check on Little Miss because I've not heard anything for a couple of hours. I sneak into her room and there is a morgue-like silence. I start to panic. Is she dead? Should I try to wake her up? Will my wife kill me if I do? Then there is a loud snort and the snuffling piglet is back. I'm relieved but utterly despondent. Yet another half hour of strange noises to put up with before my poor exhausted mind finally switches off.

At roughly 6am there is always a thud, followed by a louder squeak than normal. This is the nursery version of the morning chorus and always comes two hours too early. On a good day we then get 'Mamma!', 'Daddy!' and 'OUT!' until zombie Daddy or zombie Mamma stagger into her bedroom and release her from her cot. If we are unlucky we will get 'MILK!' and/or 'TOAST!' too which results in zombie Daddy stumbling down the stairs in a vain attempt to locate the fridge before lacerating his bare feet on Mr Potato Head's glasses.

Little Miss K is almost old enough to have the bars removed from her cot. Right now, she will wake up and squeak, and you can at least pretend that she will resettle herself, even if you know that that is as likely as Bill Gates appearing in a BDSM video with Anne Widdecombe. As soon as those bars are removed, every morning will be begun with a herd of thundering wildebeest and a clip round the back of the head with 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'. Board book version, natch.

Can't wait.