You’re either an early bird, or a night owl. I fall into the latter category, as my mornings often resemble one of those sci-fi movies where some poor dishevelled soul awakens after being cryogenically frozen for 37 years. Before about 10:30, there is no point in trying to hold a conversation with me as I don’t know what year it is, or even what planet I am on.
My wife on the other hand is a bright and bubbly, up and at ’em, start the day with a bang type. Yes, she’s one of those. A ‘morning person’. The scurrilous breed that frolic about the house with glaringly offensive smiles, shooting beams of sunlight out of their eyeballs, while the rest of us are curled up in a dark corner trying to summon the will to live. It’s like living with a flashbang grenade. As you might imagine, this often leads to conflict when she allegedly asks me to do something important, of which I never have any recollection, because I am still stuck in neutral let alone rolling along in first gear.
Conversely, I’m still all systems go once the sun has retired, while her circuits are fried and ready to crash by about 8:30/9 PM.
I’m not sure if this is just a general baby thing, but Frankie certainly inherited the early bird DNA strand from her mother. When she first wakes in the morning, it’s a smilefest. It’s hilarious to watch, as she’ll lie there cooing and making all kinds of sounds while wearing the world’s largest (and cutest) smile across her face.
Then comes with witching hours . From about 6PM onwards, she cracks the shits with everything that life has to offer and enters what we have dubbed, ‘Grinch Mode’.
Here’s where this all becomes a bit of a raw deal for poor old Dad. Usually when I get up in the morning to go to work Frankie hasn’t woken up yet, so I miss out on the morning smile session, and by the time I get home she is either already in bed or in full blown grinch mode.
While I’m at work I get sent all these funny smiling photos, which I do love, but they offer a double edged sword of a reminder of what I am missing out on. And then I come home to the soothing sounds of high pitched screaming and crocodile tears.
But that is the life of a working Dad I suppose. Given everything that Mums have to do to in order to grow and support a baby, it’s only fair that they get their share of the spoils. And it does make weekends that extra bit special when I get to enjoy a spot of morning sunshine, regardless of what the weather is like outside.