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It is 6:21am. I know this because I have looked at the clock every couple of minutes for the past 3 hours. Sleep, it appears is not for the likes of me. I mean, I don’t have 3 boys to get up, dressed and ready for school, a full day at work, then a social event this evening. I don’t have a college course that I’m 3 weeks behind on, and an exam next week….oh shit. I do. And somehow I need to fit in actually spending time with the kids, Christmas shopping and housework. No sod it, the housework can wait.

So, I’m lying in bed (it’s now 6:26, in case you are interested), trying to build up the courage to emerge into the freezing bedroom. I’ve been building up to it for some time, however gave only managed to achieve one shoulder and an arm out of the covers in order to type this.

I can hear the kids are up, well awake, only the eldest is up and off downstairs to the freezing bathroom for a shower. The younger 2 are in their room, not yet arguing (praise the Lord) and so, lying here in my snug warm bed, I feel quite maternal and in need of some hugs. In a minute I will call them and get them to come and cuddle me in my bed. In my head everyday, this is a special time, a time that I will look back on with joy and find memories. Perhaps I will, perhaps I will forget the squabbling of who kisses Mummy first; who gets to lie next to Mummy; who Mummy loves most; perhaps these snuggles are not for me to remember fondly, but for them to remember? Who knows, perhaps the passing of time will fade the memories of cold feet and hands on me in the cuddles, the elbows and the squabbling?

Perhaps it won’t. Either way I know in my heart that these moments are precious. That soon, like my eldest, they will be too old to want to snuggle me.

Now roll on those cold hands, I hear footsteps.

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