It's a Dad Thing

snoreboar
Originally uploaded by nappyfever.

I'm knackered.

Absolutely shattered.

The baby is sleeping fine though. Lucky wee thing.

My problem is snoring.

Not little night time dozy zeds, but the enormous noise of a pig with sinusitis operating a road-drill.

Now, this wouldn't actually be a problem if I lived down the bottom of a sound-proofed well. I could sleep soundly through the night and then when I woke up there would be a tasty mossy snack and a friendly frog to play with. But I live in a small Victorian two-up two-down with a baby and a lady.

The baby, as I have already mentioned, is mostly fine with the noise but the lady who is now six weeks away from popping a sprog, is sleeping fitfully enough as it is. Add the current hot weather and my snout-sounds to the mix and well, let's just say she's not too happy.

In the night I get kicked awake "Jake, you're snoring!"
"What?"
"You're snoring."
"Yes, well I thought at least one of us should get some sleep." Then I go back to the land of nod. This happens about thirty times a night, the severity of the blows increasing with every instance. I am worried that one night heavy implements might be fatally employed.

I've tried sleeping on the couch but the big leather thing acts as a sort of sounding board, amplifying the sound to that of a prehistoric sabre-tusked pig dancing on kettle drums whilst using some sort of industrial electric toothbrush. It even wakes me up.

I went to the doctor, she referred me to the hospital, who did a sleep study for apnea. This is where you stop breathing but don't quite die about a hundred times a night. I thought it might be an interesting dinner-party-conversation-type-of-illness to have, plus I could use it to explain away the dozy fuckwittedness that has been facet of my personality since childhood. Alas, it turns out I am classified as a "simple snorer". (Simple? It makes me sound like I should be carted around in a mini-bus.) The answer? Loose weight. Less pies. Less bacon. Bugger!

I think snoring is a dad thing. I have always given it a few zeds, but since the baby has come its got gradually worse. My dad also snores. I think all dads do.

Being a bit of an amateur anthropologist, I have recently being concocting various hypotheses over why this should be. At first I thought that maybe its some sort of warning, the loud roar of the alpha male, scaring dangerous juveniles away from the nest. But all the snore really says is: "Fat dad. Knackered. Come in and take the stereo." So that theory was ruled out. Maybe it is just a 'dad thing' after all, I thought to myself.

There are other things that belong to the world of dad. Pajamas become quite essential fatherhood tools. It doesn't seem quite dignified having to get up in the night five times with your wanger flopping about the shop. Also, on a cold night, slippers top the costume off quite well. This is what my father wore. It is what I wear. They are 'dad things'.

But, I read some research recently that said that fifty-percent of British fathers are sleep-deprived.

When people are deprived in one way or another they often become ostentatious. People from the ghetto like to show their worth by sporting lots of bling. If you are a teenager from a poor area in Liverpool, you have to shell out for a £200 tracksuit* and a pair of scally issue Reebok Classics. And men who aren't getting any, drive long, willy-shaped cars. The important thing is to make a show of possessing what you have a limited amount of.

So, by applying this principle we can deduce that:

Snoring is an ostentatious sleep-display, a dad's way of shouting "Look at me everyone, I'm fast a-kip!"

Pajamas are an outward signal to the world that we are getting some (sleep that is).

And, do you know what?

Slippers are our bling.

It's true.

Trust me, it's a dad thing.



*These are also a type of pajama. For that matter, trainers are very much like slippers. Is it any wonder the level of teenage pregnancy is rising?