Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).
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8 June 2015

A Sleep Worth Fighting For!

It's early Monday morning and BabyBoy1 is shouting from his cage cot.
He's a noisy little bugger. Bless.



He can't talk yet, but I get the gist of his shouting:

'Guys??? GUYS??? Where are you?'
'The sun is up IT MUST be morning!'
'I'm hungry!'

I hear Mrs. Amazing stir and say a bit miffed 'You are kidding me'
She does not sound very happy. I consider laying still, going back to sleep, and pretending this has nothing to do with me. But I know it does. Actually it is mostly my fault.
So instead, using my amazing powers of deduction and empathy I deduce that Mrs. Amazing would very much like me to get up and sort him out. Or something that rhymes with 'Cluck cough boo bar stewards, band bet bee bleep', she does tend to mumble in the morning.

'I am waiting!!!'
'MORNING!'
'I'm alone! Where is everybody?'
'Ooooo fingers!'
'Ooooo cot!'
'Arghhhhh'

Luckily I got to bed early last night. So when I send the signal to my body to leap out of bed, it isn't rude, it doesn't stop my good intentions by sending pain shooting about, it just does what it is told to do and I am up. Vertical.
It's a morning miracle.

Miss4 waves at me from the other side of the my bed. When did she sneak in? She's a ninja.
I go and grab BabyBoy1 and head downstairs. I'll get him Milk, that will shut him up soothe and calm him.
'Hey it's you!'
'<Slap in the face>'
'What IS up your nose?'
'Ooooooo'

But I stop at the bottom of the stairs because the thermostat bravely tells me what the time is. It's not 6:30 as I thought it must be. It is not even 6:15.
It's sodding 5:20.

Uh uh. No way BabyBoy1, no. We are not having our first bottle in the morning at 5:20. You my friend are going back to bed.
'<Slap face, slap face, eyeball poke>'
'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT THE SLEEPING ROOM! ARHGHGHGHGGHH!'
'<Tries to escape father’s arms by wriggling>'

My choice here was threefold: (+1 for big word)


Option 1: Get him milk and shove it in his gob and then both clamber back to bed.


This option will mean I could get a good 10mins extra snooze before he finishes, burps and is ready for play. Then maybe 10mins more whilst I manage to distract him with whatever I can find next to my bed Here have R2D2. Careful... Careful... 
You don't get R2 anymore... 
<both sob>


(Driod down… Beep boooo-o  o   ooo   blip)

This option is tempting... Bedoptia is calling… But it's only fool's gold sleep, so it's crap.

And it's setting a precedent, it's giving in and saying the morning Milk is at 5:20. Please wake up everyday at this time, as now is when you will get your milk.
It might not sound too bad to some, but what happens next week when he gets up at 4. I'll end up getting up before I go to bed in a few months. We'll end up nocturnal eventually, like vampires! KEWL!

It also will wake Mrs. Amazing up, no matter how well she acts asleep. And then Boy7 will take it as an open invite to get up too...


Option 2: Declare it's morning, get everyone up and just start the day early.


This is a very risky move. It can work, but the cost can be high and it has the potential to backfire horribly. Everywhere, all over the floor with everyone grumpy.
The risk is too much and frankly I don't have the clearance or authority to call it.

Option 3: Fight!


Yes fight. Fight for our right to sleep. Fight for being able to function properly for the rest of the day. Fight for some rest, fight for the unobtainable 8 hours recommended by kid-less lying scientists.
Be a man and fight this baby. Now is the time to draw a line on the stairs and whisper (so you don't wake Boy7):
No BabyBoy1! Milk is at 6:30! rarrrr!!!

I can win this battle. He's a baby. I'm pretending to be a fully grown adult. I have a vastly superior intelligence (but needed a spell checker for those 3 words, I put ‘wastly suprieror iteligence’ - go figure), I have greater strength and stamina, this is my battle to win. 


FATHER'S! What is YOUR profession?

WAR! WAR! WAR!
[See movie 300]

Yes well... Quite. Maybe that should be


FATHER'S! What is YOUR profession?
The “Earny-money, do as much housework as time allows, and maintain order and sanity in the house”-man!

But that's less catchy... and way harder to get all your troops to shout out in unison.. you get my drift anyway.


Despite it being ARGH-O’Clock I have fired myself up for this battle and I take BabyBoy1 back to his room with the definite intention of putting him back to sleep for at least an hour.


Twenty minutes later we are downstairs playing.


Now I can make lots of excuses here to defend myself, but really it was a strategic retreat. Really. Lose the battle, but win the war and all that.
I tried, I really tried, I sang, I cooed, I shushed, ignored, frowned, poked his tummy, pretended to be dead sleep, ...  but he was having none it. Sun up means it's morning and playtime. Damn his internal body clock.

Also and this is more important I feel.
I only get a couple of hours with BabyBoy1 a day. Mornings before work when I'm still tired, lunch break from work when I'm a bit tired and hungry and rushing, and evenings after work, when he's tired and smelly and I'm tired after work, and smelly, and mainly I'm convincing him to go to bed.

So I could spend the remaining 50 mins trying to get someone wide awake and full of the joys of morning back to sleep, whilst slowly winding myself up and getting cross, all for the vague hope of another few minutes in Bedtopia.


Orr... (and FFS it's a pretty easy choice)


I just go downstairs and just sit on the carpet with BabyBoy1 and play with his toys with him. It's pretty obvious which side of the fence BabyBoy1 is on.
'Look Daddy!'
'LOOK!'
<Slap slap>
'Look!'

And I love playing games with him, it’s the best. Look a tower <Smashes it down> We laugh.


And then he shows me I've made the right choice...
'<Slobber kiss>'
Ahhhhhh ewwwww...

At 6:30 the microwave pings and he gets his milk (I pass it to him). Fair play, he downs it.
'BURRRRRRRP'

I yawn and smile (#proud), and neck my second cup of tea. I might have drawn lost the battle, but at least the war is still up for grabs.
GO TEAM PARENTS!


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