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Friday, 16 March 2012

Yeah, knackered.
Look, before I start, I want you to know that I've always despised this club mentality of parenting. You know the sort of thing, that because you haven't squeezed another human being out of your vag you can't possibly understand what it's like to live in chaos or rinse shit from under your nails. I hated all of that before Kraken Junior slopped into my life and I still hate it now.
However, and I am really fucking sorry about this, there is just one club rule to which I subscribe and that is to know the true meaning of sleep deprivation. Really, until you've had a kid or been tortured by the Iraqis you just haven't even got a vague understanding of what it means. That's because the term 'sleep deprivation' only tells half the story. The phrase should read 'sleep deprivation and an avalanche of screeching chaos to deal with as the shit-laden nappies and puke-riddled muslins pile up around your feet'.
See, it's because parental sleep deprivation isn't just about being awake in the night. It's about being awake and having an infant scream at you every hour until dawn as you feed/ change/ jig it through the tears of your exhaustion. For six days in a row. And then having to do all the usual kid-rearing crap during the day too. No lie-ins, no catch-ups, no cat-naps. Just endless mind-tearing torment. What the fuck the Americans are doing with waterboarding is beyond me. Just give the Guantanamo inmates a shrieking, purple, colicky newborn at 3am and they'd be spilling secrets like dropped Smarties.
And no, until you have done it you don't know how it feels. Fuck knows, you can't even start to imagine what it is like. I've had mates attempt a comparison with such gems as, "Oooh, I know how you feel. I was out clubbing until 5am last week!" or, "Oh I know, the blood dustman wakes me up at 7am every Thursday morning".
Excuse me? Are you out of your tiny frigging minds? Do you honestly think that choosing to snog and booze your way though a weekend with your mates is in any way comparable to being woken every hour by a raging offspring? Or averaging three hours a night for a month? No, no, no, no, no. And again, hell no. 
I'm afraid parental sleep deprivation is the equivalent of conquering Everest or having a car fall on you. Until it happens you haven't got a fucking clue what it feels like. Imagine having your senses ripped out through a hole in the top of your head and then run over by a shit-covered dumpster truck driven by Jonathan Aitken. Then scrap that analogy because it doesn't even come near it.
So while the 'club' is one that I'll never join, I'll give it the nod over this 'un. Or perhaps I'm just too fucking tired to get my arse in my hand for once.

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