Are you playing dead?

By now we have discovered that baby is a sleep wrecker, but soon enough, dad's instincts kick in. The same instincts that allow you to block out a conversation in which information is being repeated, the instinct that allows you to watch the game despite the recitation of the daily log, that amazing filter we have that can turn words into whomp, whomp, whomp.....becomes effective eventually and we are actually able to sleep. We become immune to the whimpering and mild moans to feed and we enjoy a peaceful rest. The next morning we hear mommy complain of being up, him being fussy, changing diapers, and breast feeding and we are stunned and greatful because that filter allowed us to miss it all.

Mommy, seeing our peaceful sleep, will at some point become the sleep wrecker. It's almost like she says, if I'm up,  you're up. You'll be jolted out of la la land by a muted scream, "babe!!!" "Oh, no you didn't....are you really waking me up? Don't you know how hard I've worked to tune my filter to baby and now you blatantly wake me up on purpose?" These are my inner thoughts as I lay there and play possum not wanting to turn over. I know what's coming? When I realize I can't ignore mommy because a mommy scream at 4 am, in the dead of silence, as you are asleep, sounds like a freight train, I turn over trying to hide being annoyed. "Do you want to hold him?" Ummmm...no. I want to sleep but I can't really say that so, I'm up with a wide awake baby. It's now my job as a mummy to put a bright eyed baby back to bed.

The 2 hour dance and singing show begins. Baby is crying because you are crying on the inside. All you want him to do is be quiet and close his eyes and all he wants to do is go to the disco and dance and sing like he's pooped a molly and he sweating. I sing and dance and cry. He sings and dances and farts. We tango for two hours until the Molly effect has worn off and he has finally bent him to your will, not really, he just wore himself out, but you'll take he victory anyway you can. Now that baby is asleep, you go back into the room and whisper to mommy to prep the swaddle. Mommy is unresponsive. You are holding baby, who probably hasn't fallen into too deep a sleep so you can't return the muted scream that jolted you. You whisper more intensely, "babe....babe....pssst"...nothing. I know you hear me, "babe...babe...are you playing possum?" I know that trick, get up. No, mommy has taken playing possum to another level, mommy is playing dead. You are on your own dad.