Parenthood Perils

Stardate: 06th March 2007
Listening to: Tenacious D - Beelzeboss
Cynicism: 50%

Well, I'm now deep into the routine of fatherhood. I wake up each morning between 2am and 4am, snatched from whatever dream I'm having before I've even finished my beer or pulled down my pants, to what sounds like an old man trying to clean his dentures with his tongue. Usually this manifests inself into my dreams at first, so that as I'm cracking a Pale from wall of the castle made of beer in which I live, one of the cheerleaders spelling out "BAYLS" with their naked bodies in the beer-spa will morph into the guy from Cocoon and start clucking like a half-mute chicken. Then he starts crying and I realise what's happening, trying furiously to skoll my virtual stubby before it all disappears, and telling the spa-chicks to stay put for when I get back. And then I'm awake, concentrating on maintaining a steady respiration rate, including a regular pseudo-snore with each exhalation to try and convince the She_Armiral that I'm still asleep. At the same time, I'm analysing her breathing, monitoring its cadence and rhythm, trying to time my gentle elbow poke into her ribs so that it looks like I'm stirring, but not stirred to the point of being fully awake. If I time it right, she wakes up just as the crying reaches a crescendo and as I hear her weight shift to exit the bed, I fake my own groggy awakening and murmur with exaggerated tiredness "I'll get it". "I'm already up", drifts back through the darkness as I silently slide across to the warmth of her side, dodging the puddle of pillow drool I know is there. And as the barely audible sound of nappy velcro being torn apart comes from another room, I drift back into sleep.

Parenthood. It's tough, but I'm coping!