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1:30 a.m. - 2000-11-28


This weekend will mark exactly one month since I became a parent. Coincidentally, it's my wife's anniversary as well.

And we did it all on eight hours of sleep.

To clarify, that's not per night. That's eight hours of sleep stretched out over a month's time.

I'd like to quickly speak to those of you who have yet to have children. Or ... as I will refer to you for the rest of my living, breathing days ... "The Lucky Sleep-Filled Souls".

If you have EVER treasured your sleep ... do NOT have a baby.

Oh, don't get me wrong. This child's the most adorable baby in the free world and a true blessing in our lives. I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world except a Play Station 2 and three games of my choice.

Put down the pens and the personalized stationary ... I'm kidding.

... Make it five games and we're ON like Don Juan, amigo ...

But ONLY if you're prepared to go two ... three ... seventeen ... sometimes twenty three days without sleep, my friend.

Sleeping arrangements in the house is something that we really have to work on with the baby. Andy is under the impression that we're ALL sleeping 18 hours a day. Let's face it ... he's passed out all day ... he figures we're all keeping his same schedule.

About 10 p.m. each night, he gets a bit rowdy, oh yes...yes he does. He's figured out that 10 p.m. means "Time for several hours worth of fidgeting like a greased toad." He's ready for a baby hoedown in the soft lighting of the den. Swing your baby dosey-dough, watch him get sick to and fro.

The first couple of nights were pleasant enough. He was still new and we were both at home and could adjust to his schedule, however barbaric it would become.

But now ... well ... I'm back at work. And the cuteness of the piercing shrieks at 2 a.m. has gotten a bit old. Yes son ... we get it. You don't like to get your diaper changed at 2 a.m. There's a simple solution, m'boy ... stop messing it up so much and we'll stop degrading you in the middle of the night with these horrid diaper changes.

I swear, you'd think we were torturing the kid every time we changed his diaper. We're doing everything right, I don't see what the fuss is about. I mean ... you are supposed to put the safety pins through the love handles...right??

I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I know you pin them through the buttocks. Jeezum Crow ... I'm NOT an idiot.

And I know that the only method of communication children have is through crying. So if he's crying, he could be trying to say "Daddy, I'm hungry" or "Daddy, I need my diaper changed" or "Daddy, why doesn't Gore just admit defeat and walk away glumly?"

I just always take it for granted that he's hungry and hand him to Mama when his crying becomes uncontrollable. Once he's in her arms, he's officially her problem.

He likes sleeping in our bed, which is a no-no, but c''s been COLD out lately and he's just barely a month along in life and there's no action going on there anyway.

And this poor kid ... as of press time he STILL hasn't lost his umbilicle cord. It looks like a burnt kernel of popcorn in his belly button, but the thing just won't pop out.

This column served no purpose other than to update you on the pure hells of sleep deprivation from my perspective. I'm writing this at 1:50 a.m. with an adorable infant slung over my left shoulder.

Hey ... I got almost three hours of sleep tonight! I think that calls for a baby hoedown!!! .... Swing your baby dosey dough...

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