Little Baby Drug Dealers

I'm OK with this.

Yesterday, I didn't post anything.  The night before was a little rough.

Otto's not a great sleeper.  He's not bad, I've certainly heard of a lot worse.  But last night, you could only describe this kid as purely nocturnal.

He needed to be walked to go to sleep, and that took about 2 hours each time.  There were two episodes of 4 diaper changes in 20 minutes.  He fussed and squirmed and pooped and cried and grunted and even just sat there looking around.  But he didn't sleep.

By the end of the night we had incorporated a hybrid sleep strategy from every expert we could access.  (Happiest Baby on the Block, the Baby Whisperer, the Dog Whisperer, Dr. Oz, Dr. Suess, Dr. Dre, Steve Jobs and a little Inception.)

Didn't work.

What I noticed last night was the weird affect a baby has on a person in an emotional state.  When I was lying in bed and he started to fuss (he doesn't really scream; he cries in very subtle and artistic ways), I would be upset and grumpy.  But after getting him up, changing his clothes, and changing his diaper for the fourth time and we were finally bundled and relaxed in our rocking chair, I would still be exhausted... but it didn't seem awful.    He would make a face that would resemble a smirk and he would flail his arms in frustrating and adorable ways, and just like that, it wasn't that bad.

It's weird.  The only thing that I've seen that can change a person's demeanour so quickly is drugs.  Think about this, I'm a pacifist, but if ANYBODY ELSE were to yell at me every twenty minutes for an entire night and then smear mustard coloured feces down my leg, I might lose it.  But not with Otto.  This guy wakes me up at 3am, stretches out the collar of my favourite David Bowie shirt, cries through a diaper change, pees up my arm in the 2 seconds between old diaper and new diaper, cries through a sleeper change and completely disrespects my excellent renditions of select acapella Radiohead songs.  But once we're settled into our rocking chair, both drifting off to sleep, I can't remember why I was upset and I'm kind of happy I get to hang out...and then he has an atomic poop explosion in his pants.  Again.

How can babies do that? (The state of mind change thing, not the atomic poop explosion.) It's like they excrete some sort of inhaled narcotic that instantly affects anyone in a 20 foot radius.  But it effects different people in different ways.

For Tirsha and I, Otto is like marijuana.  When we've got a list of 40 things to do and Otto has barfed all over our new furniture and we should be super stressed out, we just laugh a lot.  And talk about how big his hands are. And I'm eating a lot more snacks.  And anyone who knows Trisha should be interested that now, suddenly, she doesn't care if the house is a little messy (That's major. I should be clear, it's still pretty spotless and organized.) Me on the other hand, I seem to be a little more paranoid.  It's funny that the hot water tank temperature, furnace filter and stair hand rail are suddenly so important.

For sisters/sisters-in-law/mothers/mothers-in-law/ladies at church, Otto is a lot more like crystal meth.  They will claw and scratch their way close to him and once they've got their hands on him they DO NOT let go.  They become irrational and potentially violent (to others. Not to Otto).  And it only takes the briefest exposure and they are addicted.  I feel bad for the people that live with these women when they go home, because I'm positive there's some sort of withdrawal process. Although I don't mind the side effect of them loving to change his diaper.  (love you guys, come over any time)

For other guys my age, Otto is a little more like ketamine.  It doesn't matter how tough or confident they are, once they're holding Otto, they dissociate into spacy, mindless masses.  They may snap out of it into some sort of nightmare.  


Otto's pretty amazing, though.  One of my areas of interest is human behaviour.  I have researched and observed and surveyed and taught for a few years now, and I don't know how to change it.  All he knows how to do is poop, eat and sleep and he's already got everybody in line.


And to complete my sappiness quota for today (and to make up for missing yesterday) I must say this to my big boy, Otto.  You are not a drug dealer, you are just adorable and it's not chemicals that make me like being up with you all night, it's love.  There.  I said it and it's true.  You can all make fun of me now.


By the way, for any other parents out there looking for sleeping tips...white noise.  I don't care if I have to play it every night in my house for the next 18 years, it works and it puts me to sleep, too.


It's Otto's second week birthday today.  No, I didn't make him a video this week.  Maybe I'll save that for all the firsts (first month, first year, etc.) but here's the one I made last week in case anyone missed it:

Otto learns about politics

Otto, only 2 weeks ago!  With my beautiful wife, Trisha.

New bud, Brody.

So innocent.