Zombie parents

As readers of this blog will know, I like to moan a lot about how tired I am.  There’s no getting away from it, I am tired all the time and can go to sleep at any moment.  This is largely because my daughter has started to get up really early, at 5am every day.  Now, I know that some of you will be reading this and thinking “Ha! That’s nothing! 5am sounds like a dream”.  And you are absolutely right.  That my daughter affords me at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep per night is wonderful.  I am, nevertheless, still tired and have been since about September 2013.

This does not, however, mean that other people aren’t more tired than me, and I’ve noticed a certain amount of playful competition going on with other parents in that regard.  Enter Mr. “Shit I’m going to miss my train” (see previous post), who was remarkably two minutes early for nursery today, as was I.  Mr. Smile (a friend who I like very much, and whose daughter goes to the same nursery) says hello and asks how I am.  “Tired.  Up at 5.30 again” was as much as I could muster (I am known for my plain speaking).  Mr. Smile boldy counters by telling me that his daughter woke them up at 7.30am.  That was just too much for Mr SIGTMMT who entered the conversation by saying “11!!!! 1!!!! 3!!!! 5!!!!”.  It took me a few moments to register that he wasn’t just shouting out sequential numbers but was talking about when his son, who is only a month or two younger than my child and Mr. Smiley’s child, woke him and his wife up last night.  Poor Mr and Mrs SIGTMMT.

The amusing thing about this was the brief conversation which ensued, since it appeared that Mr and Mrs SIGTMMT argued at every waking-point about who should get up and “sort him out”.  That had us all nodding in sage agreement, since we’ve all had morning arguments about who has the busiest day ahead, who did it last time, who the baby wants etc.  You both fight hard for your corner.  You both press your case.  You both don’t feel like being nice at 3am (or 5am in our case). But the baby is still crying, so one of you capitulates and then has amunition for the rest of the day – “who’s making dinner”? (not me, I got up at 3am); “who’s turn is it to do the bins”? (not me, I got up at 3am); “can I put the sport on”? (no, I got up at 3am) and so on and so forth.

In the end, it doesn’t matter who wins the war.  But perhaps I’m only saying that because it was, today, my husband who capitulated.  And because the truth of the matter is that we are fortunate to have a little girl who has slept through since she was about 4 months old (sorry sorry sorry but it is true).  So while it is true that I am always tired, I really need to applaud and salute those parents who get through the day having got up at ridiculous o’clock however many times with a baby who, despite being amazing, the centre of their world and otherwise a joy, is a little sleep depriving s*d at 3 in the morning.

 

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