I’ve been trying to sit down and write for a while now but I’m losing the ability to string thoughts and words together in a coherent manner. Have you ever had a car that needed a tune up real bad? That’s my brain right now. It won’t start, it coughs, it backfires, and it stalls out at awkward times.
A big part of my mental decline is lack of sleep. Since Junior is three months old, that means I haven’t gotten a good nights sleep in over three months. No wonder I’m a mess. I should be grateful because it’s been even longer for my wife. I was sleeping like a narcoleptic rock the whole time she was pregnant and tossing and turning.
The main reason is that Junior loves to scream. Loves it. If he had an eHarmony profile it would say, “My name is Junior and I like long walks on the beach, pooping and screaming inconsolably for extended periods of time for no discernible reason.” We calculated it and he spends about 75 percent of his waking hours screaming bloody murder, 15 percent eating and the remaining 10 percent being adorable.
We don't know exactly why Junior is so screamy because he is in really good health. We decided to feed him the devil’s elixir and he is gaining weight like a champ. The doctor said he probably has “colic” and went on to explain that colic is a condition where a baby is in a foul mood and screams a lot for no reason, and doctors don't have an explanation for it and there's not really any treatment either.
My first thought was: In a foul mood and screaming for no reason? I know a lot of adults with colic. My second thought was: Lamest diagnosis EVER! Fortunately the doctor assured us that it would last only four to six months.
Four to six months? I don’t know if I can make it that long, doc! There's supposed to be no treatment but we'll try anything for five minutes of peace and quiet. “Give your baby a shot of vodka.” OK. "Strap your baby to the roof of your car and drive real fast.” Sure thing.
We've started using gas drops and they help some but the last time we went to the store they were out. We spotted some organic herbal vegan gas drops and bought them in desperation. We might as well have been giving him sausage gravy mixed with grape Kool Aid for all the good the organic herbal vegan drops did him. Stupid hippies.
And then I made a weird discovery a few nights ago. Junior was screeching away and nothing I was doing was helping. I had stuff to do so I just set him in his swing and started cleaning. As soon as I switched on the vacuum cleaner he passed right out. I was so excited I felt like I had discovered electricity. I immediately recorded myself vacuuming for a while and then burned it onto a CD. Now we play “Hoover's Greatest Hits” for him.
Babies should come with warning labels that say, “SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Babies are 90% work and only 10% fun. Please reproduce responsibly.”
How is my work to cuteness ratio? Is it accurate? Leave a comment if you please.