Welcome to the Parent Club

At about 2:15 a.m. I was woken up by my wife, who in a "I'm too tired to be frustrated right now, but something needs to be done and you are the one to do it" voice asked me to get up and check on the baby. He had been asleep in his bassinet, but had but been squirming around and making these noises that are similar to what I think an adult yak that is in a steel cage wrestling match with a sea lion would sound like.

Needless to say, I very slowly got out of bed. You see, I just took the bar exam the two previous days, and the day leading up last night was my first full day back at work. Its been a stressful week. But don't tell my wife I said that, cause I am pretty sure, she would trade me what she is going through right now for what I went through. I am pretty sure she would trade me even if the trade involved her carrying a 50 lb weight with her everywhere she went.

When I finally picked him up, he settled down for a bit, his eyes remained closed and slowly walked him back and forth in the bedroom. I was still pretty much asleep, so I figured, I can settle him down in about a minute or so, using my father magic, and I would be back asleep before I knew it and I could continue on with my fucked up dream about driving to work with the wheels falling off the car. 50 seconds into it, everything was going according to plan. He was quite, not moving, I was trying to figure out the symbolism of the tires falling off. 1 minute in - Perfection. I declare myself the greatest father in the history of the universe and lay Junior back down in the bassinet. My wife, wakes up for a brief second(although I don't think she sleeps anymore) to ask if he was hungry. I confidently reply "no he just needed to be held for a while." Don't we all. I proceed to go lay down. I assumed a comfortable position after finding the warm pocket under the sheets. I close my eyes ready to enter the blissful world of uninterrupted sleep. Then he starts up again. I think "give him a minute." The yak noise comes and goes. I think "this will pass." He wants me to sleep, because he's my friend. This goes on for about 5 minutes of it starting and stopping. The wife is getting annoyed. I am getting annoyed. The normally very mellow and docile dog is getting annoyed. The dog gets up from his bed on the floor, sits up and gives me a "what the fuck, doesn't that kid know that I need my 20 hours of sleep, I have been incredibly patient with him, now go and fucking take care of this" look. I decide I should get up and attend to this.

So I pick him up again and think maybe he just needs to be changed. Side note: I change this kid like lighting. I have a pattern figured out to ensure minimum crying when naked(irrespective of my attempts to let him know that the best parts of his adult life will involve nudity), expedient removal of soiled diapers and clothing and of course limiting feces geysers. This changing was no exception. He was back ready for his bassinet in a matter on minutes and I was ready to see where the dream about the car with the wobbly tires was going, hoping that there might be some nudity involved.

But alas, this would not do. The noises persisted, as did my frustration. So downstairs we go. Time to eat. I placed the pot to boil the water and removed the prepared bottle with 2 ozs of boob nectar ready to go. I was so tired I used a pot that was already on the stove. It apparently had too much water in it and took forever to boil. The sounds had now become crying. Loud crying and getting louder. I knew I my wife had woken up, but I was really concerned about the wrath of the dog. Finally, the pot got to the point just before boiling. I turned off the stove and moved the pot to another stove top. Placed the bottle in the pot to heat up. Being that I was little tired, I wasn't thinking about physics. But apparently, when the water level is higher than the level of the liquid of the item...something, something, something, the bottle tips over. That happened here. The kid is still crying. The wailing, ear piercing cry that only a small child who needs his milk can make. I panic and try and fish the bottle out. I am still holding onto the kid. I am still half asleep. This wakes me up completely. The milk starts pouring into the water in the pot through the nipple. I panic, because, if the nipple gets too hot it will burn his lips. Still panicking, still trying to pull the bottle out of the near boiling water, still holding the baby who is still crying. Fuck me.

I finally gather my thoughts. First, put the kid down. Second, remove the bottle from the hot water. Third, fill up new bottle, fourth, pick up child again to reduce crying levels about 10-20 decibels, fifth, start heating new bottle, being sure to hold it steady for the designated 2 1/2 minutes, sixth check temperature, seventh, put down child and bottle, eighth, grab boppy pillow and place around waist in as manly a manner as possible, ninth grab child and bottle, tenth, give bottle. Eleventh, enjoy silence.

He polished off the milk in about 5 minutes. 5 minutes to burp. 20 minutes to hold up to make sure he doesn't throw up the milk and choke. I was back in bed before 3 :15, a little sad that my status as greatest father in the history of the universe might be in jeopardy. Being wide awake, I layed there for about 15 minutes before finally falling asleep only to be woken up this morning by my alarm, letting me know it was time to get ready for work.

Before I was about to leave this morning. I picked up junior and was holding him and saying good bye. He slowly cracked open his eyes. Looked straight ahead and then over to be. Gave me an acknowledging look and closed his eyes again. After a half second pause, the right side of his mouth breaks into a grin. I fucking love this kid.

Next time: A tribute to the dog: our first child.