I Just Wanted to Sleep Alone: When Motherhood Hijacks Your Bed, Brain & Bladder.
“He sleeps like a prince. I sleep like a hostage.”
Sleep-Deprived and Silly Salmon Six-Year-Old: The Bedtime Chronicles
Exhibit A:
It’s 2:30am. I’ve just been evicted from my king-size bed by a small child who sleeps like a possessed washing machine on spin cycle. Honestly, sharing a bed with my son is like going 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. He’s asleep, but he’s not still. Kicking, flipping, starfishing... it’s a full-contact sport.
So, I do what any respectable mother would do: I relocate.
Front room sofa. Dressing gown for a blanket.
Dignity?
Missing in action.
I finally settle, close my eyes, maybe even drift off…
And then I hear it.
The unmistakable sound of torrential rain...
Except it’s not coming from outside.
It’s coming from the stairs.
Yep! My son became a possessed little nightwalker with a full bladder and no mercy peed all the way down the stairs. So instead of enjoying REM sleep, I was scrubbing urine out of the carpet like I was auditioning for a spot on Mrs Hinch’s elite cleaning squad.
By 5 a.m., my husband strolls through on his way to work, looks at me passed out in the lounge, and just goes, “Rough night?” Like I’m not mid-breakdown on the sofa.
This is motherhood.
We sacrifice our beds, our bladders, our brains, and our basic boundaries all to raise beautiful, tiny humans who will still scream “MUUUM!” the second we dare to sit down.
Despite the trauma, the urine, and the ghost-level haunting of my own living room… I still love my kid.
But I’m definitely Febrezing the stairs. And possibly myself.
Now, you might be wondering: How does one survive nights like these without permanently moving into a padded cell or legally emancipating themselves from their own offspring? Well, fear not, fellow sleep-deprived warriors. I’ve compiled five hard-earned, possibly-questionable but semi-effective tips to help you navigate the motherhood madness. Are they backed by science? No. Are they backed by caffeine, sarcasm, and lived experience? Absolutely. Let’s dive in.
"Washing away my sanity... or possibly pee! Hard to tell before coffee."
5 Ways to Survive When Motherhood Takes Over Literally Everything
1. Claim a Territory (Even if it’s the airing cupboard)
When your world shrinks to your home and your humans, you need a space that’s just yours. Cupboard, car, under the stairs, behind the curtain, mark your zone like a raccoon with boundary issues. Bring snacks. Hide your phone. Ignore anyone who says “Mum?” through the door. Live your best hermit life.
2. Lower the Bar Like It’s Hot
House a mess? Kids slightly feral? You’re absolutely crushing it.
Stop chasing “together” it’s a myth created by people with paid help, ring lights, and oat milk lattes. Some days, success is not swearing when you step on LEGO. Other days, it’s just remembering where you left your coffee (or your will to live).
3. Sleep Strategically, Not Romantically
Forget bedtime routines, we’re in the Sleep Survival Olympics now. If you pass out fully clothed with a toddler’s foot on your face and a rice cake in your hair, you still win. Sleep is sleep. Romance can wait until they stop waking you up to ask why clouds exist.
4. Hide in Plain Sight
Want five minutes alone? Don’t say you're going to the toilet, they will follow. Instead, announce you’re going to fold laundry or organise Tupperware. Nobody wants in on that. Boom: you’ve just bought yourself ten sacred minutes with your phone and a stale biscuit. Use them wisely.
5. Channel Your Inner Chaos Gremlin
You don’t need to have it all together. You need to embrace the glorious mess. Put dry shampoo in your fringe, wear your “laundry day leggings” like they’re couture, and serve cereal for dinner with the confidence of a Michelin chef. You’re not failing, you’re freestyling motherhood.
Final Thoughts: You’re Not Meant to Do It All and Like It
We’ve been sold this idea that being a stay-at-home mum is some kind of gift. And yes, it is a gift, but it’s also a full-blown identity crisis in pyjamas. Your house becomes your world. Your conversations revolve around snacks, school shoes, and the mysterious wet patch on the sofa. You wonder when you last had a thought that wasn’t about laundry, logistics, or what that smell is.
And still, you’re here.
Holding the house together.
Holding everyone together.
Even when you feel like you’re falling apart.
If you’ve ever woken up with a child’s foot in your ribs, one eye twitching, and still managed to pack lunches, stop meltdowns, and remember it's non-uniform day, buy me a coffee. Not because I’ve got it all together, but because I really, really don’t… and I know you get it. ☕💛
Love,
Diane x
PS: Still figuring it out, still winging it. Still mildly traumatised from the many times my son elopes out of nowhere, like a bat out of hell. But hey, we’re doing our best! And that’s enough for me.