My latest 4 a.m. poem titled, "Daddy's Asleep":
I love your daddy, I really do,
After all, without daddy, I wouldn't have you.
But from midnight till sunrise, it's just you and I.
And as each hour passes, I'm not gonna lie:
Mommy's love slowly fades, becomes angry and weak,
Because no matter what, your dad is f—ing asleep!
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It all starts out lovely. We kiss each other goodnight.
We look lovingly down at you dear, such a beautiful sight.
An hour later, mommy wakes with a start.
You're twisting and turning, you’re starting to fart.
You're gesturing for food. Mommy is there
with a bottle or breast.
Daddy is snoring away, the way he knows best.
Mommy burps you, and holds you and rocks you with care.
You spew foul smelling yogurt on mommy's freshly washed hair.
As mommy changes her shirt, and mops vomit off the floor,
Your daddy farts, rolls over, and continues to snore.
Mommy's maternal alarm goes off, it’s not even three!
You're stirring again, you're hungry and staring at me!
“I think she is hungry” your daddy offers, pulls duvet over his head.
Mommy sends him a death stare and rolls out of bed.
Mommy comes back, tired and drained and what is this I see?
Your daddy has taken over my side, doesn’t give a f— about me!
Mommy kicks him and pushes him angrily away.
“What's up love?” He moans in a lovingly way.
Your daddy has no clue he is under attack.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my back.
And just as my love for daddy is back on the rise,
You start to coo in your crib and open your eyes.
And daddy gently nudges me to attend to your need.
I give him the finger as I prepare for a feed.
But as the sun starts rising, the slate is wiped clear.
I'm back to full love for your daddy and for you my dear.
I forget that daddy sleeps while you cry and you poo.
It's back to kissing and hugging and doting on you.
Soon you'll grow up and be daddy's little girl.
You'll not remember me cleaning up s— and vomit hurl.
Whilst you sit on his lap and he sings you a song,
You'll love him and think daddy could do nothing wrong.
But my sweet love, here is a poem for you to keep,
So you know that all those long nights, dad was f—ing asleep.
This post was written by Caroline Andersen and reprinted with permission.
