a parent’s broken record

I think that I could probably write every blog post about sleep.

When I wake up in the morning….after the occasional adventure that the night before repeated….all I can think about is sleep.

That’s a weird conundrum.

I wake up really early now (old people do that…..why am I doing that now?) and I think about sleep.

That’s weird.

If I’m so tired, why don’t I sleep in?

Talking about sleep all the time is a boring, broken record.

That’s an interesting thought…..”a boring, broken record”.  I’ll bet there are people in the world who have no idea what that phrase “broken record” might mean.

I don’t know if telling them that it’s sort of like when a file is “corrupted”….it just won’t play right.

I guess that it really means that it’s going to keep repeating itself…so “corrupted” doesn’t mean much. That really doesn’t make much sense.

It’s going to keep on repeating itself ad nauseam.

The record skips…and keeps playing the same thing over and over….bip…bip….bip…bip….bip…bip….bip…bip…bip….bip…bip….bip….bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip….bip…bip….bip…bip…bip…bip…bip….bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip..bip…bip…bip….bip…bip…bip….bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip….bip..bip…bip….bip…bip…bip…bip….bip….bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip..etc. You get the idea.

Over and over….until you’re sick of hearing it and get up to lift the needle off the scratched part of the vinyl.

Now that I think about it a little, I think that I have this sleep thing figured out.

It’s these little kids who can sleep in their car seat who are keeping me up.

Especially that new little one.

The really little one is keeping me up sometimes.

Jenny does the lion’s share of taking care of Sparrow at night.

My job is mostly to open my eyes and wonder what’s happening.

So…I’m not as tired….but I’m still tired.

Did you ever see that movie “The Omega Man”? I think that Charlton Heston was in it.

He was the last man on Earth….except for the zombies….and all the zombies were trying to get him.

That’s not what being a new father again at 54 is like.

I don’t know why I mentioned that.

Being a father has nothing to do with zombies.

Maybe I was thinking that it’s nuts to think that I’m the only one going through this.

I’m not the only one.

Later, in India, there will be a man who is awakened by a little baby.

I think that China may have one tomorrow night, too.

And these men will probably feel kind of isolated in their own weariness, too.

There is no club or union for tired fathers….I don’t think the tired mothers of the world would allow it.

If there was, the motto would have to be, “What am I complaining about? You should see my wife…now that’s a tired person. I have no reason to complain.”

Nah….that’s a crummy motto.

I guess that I’m not overwhelmingly sleepy.

I’m just sleepy enough that my head is fuzzy in my brain.

I really can’t blame that on anyone else, either.

I made my bed….and now I can’t sleep in it.

I blame it on that little baby.

That little baby wakes me up.

I do loves me that little baby, though.

That’s why God made those little babies so cute.

“His Eye is on The Sparrow” Kimberly Penner

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *