Sleep, Glorious Sleep

It's really happening. The fog has lifted, and the once-distant oasis in the desert is now within my sweaty grasp. Or at least, my sleep-deprived mind would like to believe. How does one grasp an oasis anyway? A question for another time...

It's been over a year since I updated this blog. I was heavily pregnant with my second child back in those heady days, so now I am busy looking after two gorgeous little girls, Sienna and Ashley. Hence, I am not heavily pregnant anymore - huzzah! Seems having two kids is more time-consuming than one in the lounge room watching ABC for Kids, and one in the tum, though! Baby Ashy turned one on the last day of July, and yes it has gone quickly. I am glad she's one now. I don't care what anyone says, in my experience so far, it only gets easier as they grow older. Sienna turned three in April and is more adoring than jealous of her little sister these days. That helps, as does the gradual disappearance of excrement-soaked onesies, spew-encrusted outfits (mine) and chewed up nipples (also mine).

I'm working two days a week now, on switchboard. It was a novelty for a while now; a nice change of scenery - something different to parenting. It's losing its shine now though. It gives me time to update my blog (ie. type this in an email and transfer to blog), but that's about it. Agh, just not my best day today. My switch buddy has taken a day off and there's not really anyone to talk to that much. People wax on about work being a place for Mums to have some adult conversation, but there doesn't seem to be any conversation at all, let alone a grown up one. I can't even get anyone to email me. It used to be a sociable place to work. Now I'm just doing my best to keep my eyes open. Must remind myself: no nappies to change while I'm here. No crying to listen to, no whingeing to put up with. Well... the latter two are debatable, but yes. I must enjoy the 'break'.
Anyway, my point is that my switch buddy, when she was here yesterday, was talking about how she's about to enjoy a long weekend, complete with sleep-ins. Me, hoping to live vicariously, was begging for details: 'How late will you sleep in? When you do get up, will you laze about for a fair while, how comfy are your pyjamas? etc, etc'. It would be my version of Fifty Shades of Grey, entitled Fifty Unadulterated, Thoroughly Detailed Musings About Sleeping In. But she just shrugged and uttered, 'I dunno'. Obviously doesn't understand the beauty and freedom in it. Doesn't get that I need to pepper my imagination with the unbridled, unrealistic fantasy of it all. And I'm referring to someone who's living with a bloke who has three sons in a shared care set up, where he gets the bigger share of the care! Like drawing blood from a stone, it is.
What about you? Had any decent sleep ins lately? Tell me all the gory details. I could be tempted to pay by the minute. My best story of late, is that I got to sleep in until 7.40am the other day, and I also had a nap later, as my lovely Mum had come all the way from Swan Hill, happily enduring train and coach, to help me look after the girls 'cause I felt crook. It was wonderful. It was a dream come true, in fact. It was bloggable, even. At least, I thought so.

Don't you worry, I've got lofty ambitions. One day I'm going to sleep in until nine-thirty. Just you wait and see. I shall grasp that oasis with both sweaty hands.