If you prefer an alternate title, this post could be more complexly entitled ‘You can’t sleep in standing, kid (and kid) because even though you get about on four legs for preference, you are not a horse’. Oh, and ‘In which I win a minor battle in the neverending war of Screw That for a Lark’. Edition fifty million, give or take.
May I begin with the first item, the (in case it is not quite clear as yet) Indian Takeaways? You know, since they are making what can only be described as a Bloody Din from their room and are therefore (‘BlahblahBLAHHHHHH!) consequently (‘MamamamamamaMAAAAAAhhh’) rather (DadadadadDAADADADAaaaaahh‘) hard (‘PffffffffffttTTTTTTTTTTTT’) to (‘YahahahahahAHAHAH’) forget (..and so on)?
Before anybody leaps to an impressively tall conclusion from a standing start, no, I have not cruelly imprisoned my spawn in their cots, just so I can play on the Internet, tempting as that sounds, now that I type it out.
No, the little buggers are meltdown-inducing tired, but lately naptimes have begin to go comprehensively pear shaped. So very pear that my borderline toddlers, who only a month or so ago indulged in three delicious hour-long-minimum intervals of red-cordial-powered trouser-leg-pulling, cable chewing, vomiting, hair tugging and yelling free NAPTIMES a day now barely scrape ONE nap.
Sob.
As to why?
Because, and this is ridiculously simple and a bit daft, they have discovered the Joy Of Verticality and Socialising Across the Great Divide between their cots.
I put them down on their backs and before I’ve even left the room, the silly sods are both up like a jack-in-a-box with a particularly energetic spring. They then begin a chorus of enthusiastic yells which become progressively distressed sounding as neither infant has worked out that they should just lie the heck down and go to sleep already if they’re tired. Especially when there’s a whole another baby four feet away looking all interesting, lobbing toys in your general direction and making a blasted din.
Eventually they do both tire of it simultaneously and sleep, but it takes sweet forever.
I’ve tried patiently restoring the appropriate Sleep Geometry by repeatedly returning them to the horizontal position, but all that achieves is more openings of their bedroom door than the door of a cruise-ship loo during an outbreak of gastro. Besides, I’d have to superglue them to the mattress for it to be remotely worth bothering.
So as I type this missive I have two quite clearly NOT napping Indian Takeaways red-rimmed-eyes-tired but persisting in performing synchronised jiggering up and down, babbling and indulging in a little light cot rail rattling in the next room.
Please tell me this too, like a particularly nasty bout of constipation, shall pass?
Trust me, Saag and Naan, even though your fledgling trips to the park have revealed a positively ungodly fascination with eating grass, you really are NOT anything more than very distantly related to the long-nosed equine fraternity with the whole design flaw of the snapping legs and high-velocity-lead-therapy treatment thing. You cannot sleep in standing, so please for the love of all that is holy lie down already.
You are NOT horsies, children.
That’s a good thing, really.
To put it another way, should you ever be at a dinner party with a long-lost distant second cousin, they shall not be eating out of a nosebag.
Sigh.
Onto other matters, while I wait for the clamoring to fade and fizzle, I actually won a small battle in the War On Stupid yesterday.
With logic would you believe, the one thing that usually utterly fails to work with ANY Big Company versus End User dispute.
It was in regards to my shiny new tappy screen phone (which I shall have working properly ANY DAY now) and the fact that my number, carefully retained over more than a decade from phone to phone had yet to change across. Despite two visits avec twins (who like to pull expensive things off of low shelves and draw the attention of shop security everywhere) to the shop in mega-stroller space-hogging person to sort it out.
The first time, I gave the requisite details and signed the form and was assured all would be tickety-boo within a mere 48 hours. Ha.
The second time, four days later, and with some minor frustration because phone enquiries resulted in an unhelpful ‘in progress and it really will be ANY DAY NOW’, I returned to ask why I still seemed to have two phone numbers. I pointed out that I was feeling somewhat of an utter tool as I was forced to carry around two phones and had publicly had to answer Phone A while still talking on Phone B on more than one occasion. Only rockstars can get away with that sort of behaviour. Women with vomit on their jeans that has not originated from a loving drunk groupie, not so much.
They made some calls and assured me that the matter had been signed high priority and my largess of contact details would be resolved within three hours. Also ha.
So, yesterday (after another two bleeping days and still encumbered with two blasted numbers), I called again. The very nice, but almost incomprehensible Foreign Call Centre operator said ‘Oh, we’re very sorry it hasn’t gone through yet, there’s been an unexpected delay transferring XXXX XXX XX9 to your new phone’.
Well, fuck me. I’m not surprised, really.
My number ends in a four. Somebody had a brain fart when reading the initial form and so they’ve been trying to move somebody else’s number all week.
Incomprehensible Operator instructed me hopefully to just pop on into my local phone shop and fill out another form and it would be fixed in a veritable jiffy.
I objected on the not-unreasonable grounds that the staff and I were already on first name terms as it was and besides I’d already given them the correct details and signed the authorisation and I’d be doing the exact same thing again. Apart from the whole Groundhog Day aspect of pointless repetition of paperwork, they already had a valid signed form, so as far as I was concerned they could Screw That For a Lark.
Amusingly enough, twenty minutes later New Phone cheerfully beeped to inform me that, hallelujah, it’s number had finally changed over.
