It pains me to do this, but the law is the law and sometimes you have to make a personal stand.
Thus, I would like to report a violation of the UN Convention Against Torture. A war crime, committed against me. By my children.
What are the charges? They won’t let me sleep.
The Canadian Armed Forces – following international protocol, the Geneva Convention, and the Fellowship of the Rings – has concluded that the standard of “humane treatment” of adversaries includes a strict prohibition of tactics meant to “break” individuals, including “sleep deprivation.” A quick glance at the latest research reveals why messing with someone’s sleep can be considered torture and should be punishable by severe sanctions, including jail time and/or the forfeiture of all Slip N’ Slide privileges.
“The shorter you sleep, the shorter your life,” is the succinct conclusion that UC Berkeley neuroscientist and sleep specialist Matthew Walker came to in an article in Business Insider.
Not getting a solid eight hours of sleep per night can weaken your immune system, even potentially making you more susceptible to cancer. In fact, the World Health Organization has deemed night shifts a “probable carcinogen,” adding it to a list that also includes other such high-risk activities as (and I’m not making any of these up) very hot beverages, red meat, insecticides, and being a barber. God help the man who has to chug scalding coffee to stay awake for overnight shifts cutting hair at the Dow Chemical chili cook-off.
And then there’s that semi-annual science experiment, daylight savings time. Research has proven that both car accident rates and heart attack rates spike immediately after a time change, both numbers related to a disruption in sleep patterns.
The evidence is all there. And yet my children have no damn problem waking me up at any hour of the damn day or night for the stupidest stuff.
This has been going on for far too long. Right from Day 1 my children have nailed the task of robbing me of sleep. It probably would be tough securing a torture conviction on a newborn baby, but the first year or so of parenthood is the worst.
I remember getting up night after night at 3 a.m., pacing back and forth across my house with a screaming baby in my hands and a joyful song in my heart (“Ready to Die” by Notorious B.I.G.).
But I’m not talking about babies here. My two kids are both out of preschool now, old enough to know that you can’t just start screaming in the middle of the night to get someone to bring you crackers or fix your iPad or whatever.
My kids ought to know better, particularly because they have had the importance of sleep hammered home to them all their lives by their mother, a Level Five Sleep Guardian.
Me: “Aw, just let them stay up a few more minutes. It’s the World Series and the boys are big Houston Astros fans.”
My wife: “Sleep is vitally important for growing minds and bodies.”
Me: “Just one more inning!?”
My wife: (Fills flame thrower with napalm.)
Me: “Good night, boys!”
So my children know all about the importance of sleep, indoctrinated by their mother to know exactly how many brain cells die each minute of rest they miss. And yet, they still wake me up out of deep, deep sleep all the time.
I still get it at 3 a.m., except now it’s not a scream from another room but a tap-tap-tap on my face and a whisper-shout from a boy at my bedside.
“Daddy, I’m thirsty.”
“Daddy, what time is it?”
“Daddy! I don’t know how to sleep!”
I feel genuinely blessed that I haven’t bolted up and sleep-punched one of them in the face. “Sweet dreams, sweetie. Remind daddy to take you for a concussion test tomorrow ... .”
Of course, I would never, ever, ever hit one of my kids, but when you lose sleep, your mind does weird things.
The nights are bad, but daytime naps are even worse. I was taught by my wonderful mother to respect the sanctity of a good nap. If I was catching a quick 90-minutes of daytime shuteye, she wouldn’t wake me up for anything short of a tornado, and even then it would be a judgement call.
“It’s just an F3? I’ll get you another blanket.”
My boys though ... . When I was on vacation this summer I had a few joyous days that included a nap window with someone else taking care of my children. Somehow, however, those boys always managed to slip away every few minutes, arriving just in time to get me as I drifted off.
Tap tap. “Daddy, daddy! Did you know the Seattle Mariners and Washington Nationals are the only MLB teams that have never played in the World Series?”
Tap tap. “Daddy, I just ate a popsicle!”
Tap tap. “Daddy, how long until you wake up?”
Just no respect for sleep. Don’t they know that if I had more sleep I would be much better at doing things like reading bedtime stories, writing this column, driving, and writing this column?
It’s torture, I tell you. And it’s going to catch up to you boys.
Tap tap tap.
“Wake up boys.”
“Daddy? What time is it?”
“Time to lawyer up.”
Andy Prest is the sports editor for the North Shore News and writes a biweekly humour/lifestyle column. He can be reached via email at [email protected].
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