Our last baby, Elisabeth, started sleeping through the night almost immediately. Daniel, before her, also quickly learned to sleep at night. So, I suppose we’ve been a bit spoiled. Jesse has not been sleeping well at night at all, but waking up very frequently with seemingly insatiable hunger. Here’s how last night went down.
My wife took the baby to bed to try and get some sleep in early before he starts his sleep depravation torture routine. I stayed up to fold some laundry, to eat a little something, and to just enjoy that ever-so-elusive “alone time." While I’m folding the laundry, I start to hear some crying… but it wasn’t the crying I expected. It was Elisabeth. So, I ran up stairs to get Elisabeth so that her crying would not wake up my poor, wasted, anti-popish, anti-prelatic, exhausted wife. I took Lil’ Beth down stairs and gave her a drink. As I continue to eat and fold laundry with my older baby in my lap, I hear a loud and stiff THUD, and then screaming. Little Daniel, who sleeps in the attic, fell off the bunk. I quickly sat Elisabeth on the couch, and ran up two flights of stairs (not bad for an out-of-shape old married guy) to find Daniel laying in a pile on the floor, complete with the safety gate that was supposed to prevent such a spill. As I’m about to pick up Daniel, I hear crying behind me. It was Elisabeth. She followed me up the stairs, crying all the way. So, I scooped up little Daniel with one hand, and littler Elisabeth in the other, and after a mild infarction, started back down the steps with the two kids I did not expect to be the culprits in tonight’s adventure of “guess who’s crying and why." As I’m heading down the hallway, I bump into my wife who’s like “Where you going with those kids? Put them back to bed.” So I did. Where was I going with the kids? I have no idea, I just freaked. I was trying to buy my wife some sleep, so shoot me. Back downstairs to finish laundry and my meatballs. By the time I came upstairs for bed, Jesse started up, and so up and down with him all night. Again, in an effort to secure some sleep for my wife, I took Jesse downstairs to try to comfort him, but there is a problem: Only one thing will comfort him and I am ill-equipped as the Alpha-male that I am to provide it. Sorry honey, I tried.
We’re tired. I feel sick, nasty, and discombobulated, like I did for 10 years of working nightshift. Attention evildoers: Calm down. I said I feel like I did when I worked nightshift, not that I am again working nightshift. So don’t come slithering around my house at night you so-and-so! Don't ask my wife how she feels, cuz you might hear some words you weren't banking on.
Even with all this, having kids is worth it. The work is not wasted, with God’s blessing. It’s other peoples’ kids that I have a real problem with. I’ll probably end up blogging about our adventure with other peoples’ kids at the playground, but I’m not sufficiently calmed down about it yet.
In other news: Our good friends donated some raw milk to us yesterday, and as expected, the cream rose to the top by this morning. I’m dumping it in my coffee for some yummy hot morning elixir!
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