Tag Archives: sleep



“A portrait of my child once a week, every week, in 2016”

It was dark and foggy when we arrived back at Exeter station last night, and this one cut quite a figure in his pyjamas and leather jacket, wearing my bobble hat and clutching his new monkey.

He led the way through the empty corridors and back towards the car, where after a weekend of London adventures he fell asleep within seconds – and stayed asleep till he woke up in his own bed this morning.

This boy totally has this travelling business nailed.



“A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

I wonder what it feels like to do festivals this way? Tucked up warm in your dragon costume, the music muted by ear defenders and a faint glow of fairy lights around you…

We kept expecting him to wake as we enjoyed ‘just one last band’, but he was just so deeply asleep.

I guess it must feel pretty awesome.

Linking up with Jodi at Practising Simplicity for The 52 Project. 

In praise of tired

Early morning writing vibes have been strong this week. The word count is creeping up (13, 423 at last count) and I actually quite like most of those words. My characters are continuing to lead me through their story, opening my eyes to new aspects of their world and the people that they are becoming as they embrace their teenage years.


Admittedly I have not exactly been leaping out of bed at 6am: it’s been more like 6.30 by the time I’ve got to my desk. But I’m beginning to realise that there are definite advantages to writing whilst I’m still not quite awake, and I’m hoping that embracing that might make the task I’ve set myself ever more achievable.

I remember when I was working on my first two novels, both written (the first drafts at least) before Arthur was 18 months old, I had a sense that the sleep deprivation was actually working in my favour. As long as I had a vague idea of where I was headed in each writing session, the constraints put on my brainpower by being utterly exhausted were more useful than you’d think. It meant I kinda had to focus on the task in hand: my brain did not have the energy to wander, nor to get caught up in battles of will between creative confidence and the demons of self-doubt. I just wrote, and worried about whether it was any good or not later.

I think I’m getting to a similar place by writing first thing in the morning now. I’m tired, but it’s not the (much less helpful) end of the day tired, where all the things I’ve done (and haven’t) have secreted themselves amongst my brain cells thus stripping them of any useful function. At 6am (or 6.30) my head is emptier. There is space for my narrative to spread itself out, for my characters to wander round and find their paths. But still not quite enough spare energy for my psyche to put up its niggling barriers against that story being told – that my ideas and/or my words are not worth spending precious time on.

In fact when it comes down to time, the only other thing I would be doing in that time is sleeping. And whilst I do (really, really) love my sleep, I reckon this is worth the sacrifice.


Writing Bubble


Sunday photo: 20th December 2015


It’s been a long day.

A long weekend, really.

Yesterday we left Devon at 8am, and drove for four hours before an extended family lunch and then a mindblowing theatre experience.

Today we headed to Heathrow, then had the unbridled excitement of a flight to Iceland.

It really was lots of fun. We’ve been travelling with Arthur since he was 3 months old, ish. It’s been hard work at times, but ultimately we have achieved our goal: a little person who relishes new experiences, who tolerates the boredom involved in getting to somewhere new and cherishes the wonder of the arrival.

And, even more importantly, will very happily snuggle up on a nest of coats when it’s time for bed.


Linking up today’s post with Darren at One Dad 3 Girls for My Sunday Photo and Jodi at Practising Simplicity for The 52 Project. 

In pursuit of sleep


‘One step, two steps, three steps forward; one step, two steps, three steps back’

These familiar words from one of Arthur’s current favourite songs are fast becoming the refrain for our ongoing adventures in the world of sleep.

I could go on…

‘Stop! Listen! What’s that?’

Ah yes, the dulcet tones of a waking toddler deep in the middle of the night. Always, of course, at just that precise moment when you have managed to find a little corner of bliss in your own slumbers.

We haven’t had things easy over the past couple of years as far as sleep’s concerned. Not that we’ve exactly made it easy on ourselves… Embracing extended breastfeeding and co-sleeping whilst shying away from any form of sleep training was always going to elongate the process. At least that’s how it felt every time I spoke to someone who’d chosen a more conventional path.

But actually, over the past month or so, things have definitely begun to change. Once he got over the pure excitement of having the sides off his cot Arthur really began to embrace his new sleeping quarters. We even had (whisper it) a couple of nights where he slept through and woke happily of his own accord around 8am, chatting away to his toys until we went down to greet him.

And then of course he got sick. And the fever woke him every hour and all that would make him feel better was booba. And when that had passed the lingering cough punctuated all our night times and it was just easier to bring him in with us.

And then he got better. And this week we’ve had some of those magical full night’s sleep experiences again.

(I should add at this point that whilst my two year old seems to be mastering sleeping through the night I have yet to get the hang of it again myself. I’m pretty sure I used to be an excellent sleeper, but the lack of interruption is currently a little unsettling…)

But, looking at all of this on balance, I would say we are most definitely making progress. And I’m happy that we’ve done it without ever having to leave our son crying in the dark, alone.

He really loves bedtime at the moment. His face lights up when it’s time to go upstairs, and he enjoys every second of his little routine with daddy.

Teeth, the ritual washing of selected bath toys, nappy, pyjamas, stories. He has acquired a sleep sheep – at first this was a purple plastic number which conceptually seemed to soothe him, but we’ve since progressed to a silky squidgy Welsh creature which is far more comfy to cwtch up with.

I still step in for the closing moments, cuddling up with Arthur in the dark for some bedtime booba. But often now he’ll happily lie down awake, and be asleep within seconds.

Most of the time when he wakes in the night he’s happy to settle himself. The times when he cries out for us and needs our comfort are getting less frequent. Though we still always go to him then, and we still have a bedside cot in our room for when he just needs to have us close.

As I write this I can hear him fidgeting over the monitor, and no doubt after a few steps forward we’re now due a step back.

But we are getting there, and the holy grail of an uninterrupted night’s sleep might just be in sight.

In fact we’re leaving him overnight for the first time ever this Saturday whilst we enjoy a bit of well overdue romance.

And do you know what? I think he’s going to be alright.


My word of the week this week is sleep.

The Reading Residence


Becoming a mum: sleep


It’s been a while since I’ve written in my ‘becoming a mum’ series, but I couldn’t leave it without tackling the all-important matter of sleep.

I’ve actually been putting this one off for a while now. I think I hoped that perhaps, being almost twenty months now into this whole parenthood business, I’d be able to write and say that I’d finally cracked it: that we were all getting enough sleep, at the right times, and maybe even that we’d achieved the holy grail of sleeping through the night.

Though it’s probably more appropriate that I’m getting these words out through the fog of exhaustion that’s been my general state since somewhere near the start of my third trimester of pregnancy. So nearly two years ago, if we’re counting. Two years since I can say I had a decent night’s sleep.

It’s not that Arthur doesn’t like to sleep. In fact, in the beginning, it was all he really wanted to do. It took all our energy to persuade him to eat – and I wonder sometimes whether his waking in the night since is payback for those early weeks when I had to rouse him religiously every three hours, tickling his toes and blowing on his cheeks just to get enough nutrition in him to enable him to grow. You can read about the start of our breastfeeding journey here – we’re still going strong with that as it happens, so watch this space for an update on the joys of breastfeeding a toddler!

But I digress. That happens quite a lot nowadays – sleep deprivation, probably…

We’ve had Arthur in a bedside cot since the night he was born. We started with a Bednest which we loved, and when he outgrew that at four months old we were by no means ready for him to move to his own room. So we graduated to a larger cot made by Troll – he’s still in it now for most of the night, and I’m hoping he’s not going to grow too quickly as I haven’t quite worked out what we’ll do then.

All of us – me and Leigh and Arthur – have become quite attached to co-sleeping. We often spend much of the night snuggled up together, but it’s great to have the space and security that the bedside cot affords. He’ll roll across when he wants to stretch out, and (usually) I can slide him across too if I’m really shattered. But knowing he’s there, hearing his breathing – that was invaluable in the paranoid early months. There’s something about it that feels so natural. And there is literally no better way to wake up than to hear his giggles, or more often nowadays to feel his hands on my shoulders as he peers into my face to say “Hiii!” before a request for booba or to walk and play.

I mention all this because I’m pretty sure that, were we to turn our backs on co-sleeping, then saying goodbye to night nursing and night waking wouldn’t be far behind. But as of yet it’s not a sacrifice we’re willing to make.

That’s pretty much the bottom line, really, when it comes to how we’ve handled the whole sleep issue. I know even without seeing the raised eyebrows of friends as I describe our ‘routine’ that our approach has been somewhat unconventional. But, tiredness aside, it kinda works.

Arthur goes to sleep late – 9.30ish usually – a time that came from watching him and listening to him and seeing when he started to get tired. We’ve finally made the leap to him going down in his own room so we get a couple of hours to ourselves, then he’ll wake up hungry sometime between midnight and two and we’ll bring him up to our room. He then usually wakes me every couple of hours to nurse – I’m not sure he really wakes up himself to be honest, but he makes his intentions pretty clear – and that continues until either I need to get him up or he decides it’s time to start the day.

I’ve read all the books on ways we could get him to sleep through the night. I know I couldn’t bring myself to go down the cry it out route – even though he’s older now I’d be afraid of what emotional connections would have to break in order for him to accept that no-one was coming for him rendering crying futile however lonely and afraid he was feeling on the inside. I know as well that there are a whole raft of gentler options, ones which I might be willing to try if it weren’t for the fact that, deep down, I’m not really sure I want things to change.

The later bedtime allows him to see his dad for a few hours at the end of the day – we get to all sit down to dinner as a family, and we all benefit from that. The payoff for me is that he generally wakes up for the day at around 8am. I am not, and never have been, an early morning person, so that suits me just fine. And then there’s the naps: when we’re not rushing around too much he will still have two decent naps each day, between one and two hours each. Bearing in mind this is usually preceded by a feed, and it all happens in the sling, it buys me a good few hours to sit and write. I can’t imagine how I’d get anything done otherwise – and as I’m burning to start work on redrafting my second novel as soon as things get back to normal in September I’m really hoping he doesn’t start dropping those naps any time soon.

He’s flexible too – he doesn’t need darkness or quiet to sleep, which is a real bonus for travelling. And if he stays up even later one night he makes up for it with a lie-in the next morning.

And on top of all that, our unconventional routine seems to suit him – he’s happy and healthy, growing well and hitting all his milestones. There are days when he’s tired and I know we need to slow down a little – days when we all have an early night. But once those batteries are recharged he’s ready to go again.

So whilst I know on the surface it looks like we’re doing this sleep thing all wrong, and whilst it sometimes feels like I live for my morning coffee and I can’t help but moan occasionally about that two years without a decent night’s sleep, I know deep down that I wouldn’t change a thing. I guess it’s like everything else in this whole parenting lark really – it’s ok to know the rules, to read up on other people’s theories and talk about what works for other kids. But ultimately you have to do what’s right for you.

Now excuse me while I go and have a little nap…