Tag Archive | morning

How does she know?

During the week I cover the 5:00 – 6:40 morning shift for nappy changes and feeds. Every day so far our little baby has woken us up just after 5am – 5:02, 5:04, 5:03 – the accuracy is uncanny.

This is the only consitent routine in her whole existance, and it’s damn frustrating that it results in me clawing my way out of bed to deal with poo, wee and hungry screams!

I’m desperately hoping she sleeps a little longer tomorrow as a Friday treat, but I fear she enjoys showing who’s in charge too much…


Solace courtesy of Tim Minchin

Last night was a “Good Night”. I got four consecutive hours sleep and woke early enough to do the early feed so that Wifey could enjoy a little more sleep herself. Combining “Working Professional” and “Loving Father” has been challenging, and I’m only on the second day. There’s months of this ahead.

Knowing you’re not alone in this challenge offers some comfort, whether its reading about someone struggling with a morning routine, or night time feeds.

Someone who has brought a particular smile to my face is Tim Minchin with his song “Lullaby”.

Listen on Grooveshark or watch live with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra below. If you enjoy it, buy his DVDs, tickets to his shows or other merchandise.

The lyrics are below (taken from www.songmeanings.net), but try and listen or watch before reading for the best effect.

Sleep, little baby, sleep now my love
The milky way’s shining, high up above.
When you grow up, you will learn all that stuff,
But now, close your eyes,
Close your eyes.

Sleep little baby, try not to squalk.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, you’ll learn how to walk.
To love and laugh, Make toast/to totter and talk,
But for now, beddie byes

Your blanket’s hand knitted, with pure angora wool,
Your nappy is dry and your tummy is full
Of enough antihistamine, to chill out a bull,
Yet still all this grindging.

What more, could you want? For I just can not guess..
You constantly complain to me,
You should feel blessed,
There are children in Africa starving to death,
And you dont here them whinging.

What else, can I do to put a stop to,
This mind numbing noise you are making?
Where is the line between patting and hitting?
When is rocking rocking, and when is it shaking?

I dont know what else I can do, to try and hush you
My heart says I love you but my brain’s thinking fuck you
And hoping a child trafficer will abduct you,
At least then I’d get a few hours in bed.

I’ve shushed, and I’ve cooed
And I’ve even tried to sing Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da,
In the exact voice of Ringo
Now all I have left,
Is to hope, that a dingo will sneak in and rip off your fat bitching head.

Oh hush, little baby, dont say a word!
Papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird,
In the hope you’ll get Avian Flu, The nice folk in ANE will take care of you

That’s it, close your eyes, shhh, not a sound
I can barely see your tiny chest moving up and down
One thing they don’t mention in the parenting book
Your love for them grows, the closer to death they look

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