Holy Shit, I'm tired.
Friday, my beautiful Peanut didn't sleep at all during the day. Hence, she decided to spend the ENTIRE night wailing and crying at the top of her lungs. All the child-rearing books suggest that the crying might have been a reaction to something the BossLady ate that got transferred into her breast milk. I'm not sure exactly what BossLady was eating but, based on the Peanut's reaction, I'm thinking it might have been crystal meth and jalapeno peppers.
Being a sensitive Dad of the new millenium and in order to reduce the debt owed to my wife for having gone through childbirth, I decided that I would be the one to stay up all night to watch over the Peanut and try to get her to calm down. I tried everything. I sat in the rocker and sang her Cure and Morrissey songs. I put her in front of the t.v. and had her watch Charlie Rose. I even read excerpts to her from Bill Clinton's memoirs. But unfortunately, even bad writing couldn't put her to sleep.
Then, I remembered that car commercial where the parents take the crying baby out for a midnight drive in their minivan. What a great idea! That's what I'll do. But then I remembered that we live in Manhattan and don't have a car. Since I thought it would be fiscally irresponsible to blow the Peanut's college fund by flagging down a taxi at 3:00 am and telling the cabbie to "just drive," BossLady and I put the Peanut in her stroller and went outside to walk her over every cobblestone street in New York. Somehow, it worked. An hour outside had her calmed down and ready for bed...until we got back to the apartment. I tried pushing her around in the apartment but it just wasn't the same. I think I'm going to have to start laying gravel down in the living room. Anybody know a cement contractor that paves indoor driveways?
Anyway, the Peanut finally got exhausted at around 6:30 am and fell asleep. I peeled myself up off the floor and barely made it to my own bed, staggering from extreme tiredness.
Now...I've pulled all-nighters in the past before. I once stayed up 3 days in a row to read Umberto Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum." I've stayed up camping with friends to watch the sun rise. And I've had my share of wild nights where the partying lasted until dawn. But never have I stayed up all night to soothe a crying baby. I was tired. I was confused. My vision was getting blurred. The fatigue was playing tricks on my mind. I think I may have even chopped a few lines of powdered formula and snorted them up my nose. And I'm not sure exactly what happened next, but when I woke up, the dog was wearing diapers.
I guess this was one of those official "Welcome to Parenthood" experiences. I'm sure that there will be many, many more. It's ironic because I've never considered myself to be that patient of a person. But with Peanut, I feel like I have these previously untapped and unlimited reserves of patience. I guess this is lesson number one in Parenthood 101.
Thanks, Peanut. Lesson learned.