3 Years, 8 Months & 4 Days into Daddyhood

I don’t hate motorbikes. But I hate that motorbike! The one that roars past at 10 or 11pm, that sounds like its engine is full of phlegm. Pre-parenthood I wouldn’t have minded so much – I wouldn’t be in bed yet, so it would just be a minor annoyance – if it even registered on my Annoyance Radar. But by the time that motorbike roars/coughs/splutters past, I’ve been asleep about an hour, which is the worst time to wake up. Although I am, I think, sort of getting used to it.

Like I sort of got used to being woken several times a night by a baby in need of a feed/change/cuddle.

Like I sort of got used to not being woken up (usually).

Like I sort of got used to normally waking/being woken before 6… compensating by going to bed between 9 and 9.30.. .

Except when I’m woken at 3.45 (yes, 3.45), like this morning… and trying to cuddle her back to sleep for half and hour… but then looking at her wide awake eyes, giving up, getting up, plonking her in front of the telly (thank God for Virgin Catch Up TV!), inserting my intravenus caffeine drip and being thankful that today’s work day is a relatively short one – ie no staff meetings or owt.

Tired?

While ambling to the station, I look up and see…

Ah, sleep is overrated.

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