The end of the bragging rights
Sunday, April 26, 2020
My darling Baobao,
Time was, Mama Raven and I were the envy of all the other parents. “Oh, she’s been sleeping through the night for months now,” we would boast, or, more “humbly” we would acknowledge our good fortune, “We’ve been lucky. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was about two months old.”
Well, our luck seems to have run out on that score. The last few nights have been a throw-back to the Bad Old Days of little sleep, badly broken. May you, daughter mine, someday have a kid or two of your own, so you’ll finally appreciate just what you’ve put us through! (I know from my own experience that you have to go through it to know what it’s like! Theory don’t cut it.)
As a fer’instance, take last night. Please.
- 22:00 hours: 50 millilitres of milk, then to bed
- 01:43 hours: Up about hour an hour after Papa fell asleep; thank god your mother was still awake, about to pump, so she took you fed you 140 millilitres. Surely that would put you out for the night!
- 04:28 hours: Ha! “Gimme another 30 millilitres, Mommy, then maybe I’ll sleep!”
- 05:51 hours: “Actually, I’m still hungry – Daddy’s turn!” 80 millilitres.
- 08:40 hours: “Three hours sleep is all I need! I’m hungry! Er, for 20 millilitres …” (But she ain’t going back to sleep! I breakfast, take her up and change her, put her down, then eventually give up and bring her to my office. See photo, above.)
- 10:08 hours: Another 95 millilitres of milk, more time on the floor, then some thumb-sucking action! Sleep? Ha. Ha. Ha. But Mama Raven says Leave her in the crib with me and so, here I am, listening to you shout, cry and generally make of yourself a royal pain in the proverbial derriere as I type this guilt-trip letter to you, O Light of My Life!
Yes, you’re almost certainly teething, so there is hope this will be a short return to the early days of parental exhaustion. And you don’t, in fact, seem especially unhappy. But my lord are you loud, lately!
O sleep, where is thy merciful injection of something powerfully narcotic?
Still, and despite the sarcasm, I remain,
Your loving Papa Z (but please shut up)
P.S. Have a photo from a lovely afternoon in the garden yesterday,