The Presumption of Under-Controll-ed-ness

Some good friends of mine are in the home stretch final month to have their first child, a little girl. They've been doing the classes and I think the reality of a pending baby is actually starting to settle in on my buddy. I'm pretty sure his wife has been on it it for awhile since she's carrying the package, as it were.

And everytime I see them, I impart a bit of wisdom from my years of being a poppa. Something about mountains of diapers, not sleeping for a year or the wear-you-down style of assault crying that beats down any defenses over the course of hours and hours of crying. You know, the good stuff! But I do also try to balance it out with the joy beyond words that kids bring as well. That there is nothing that will ever compare to the first smile your baby gives you. Or the sweet, sweet gift that is a full and uninterrupted night of sleep.

Because we have been there, we have done (and are doing again) teething and sleepness nights full of rocking, cooing, praying and bargaining (I promise to believe in God if you'll go to sleep, etc.). And I thought we had things well under control. I presumed that we had things well in hand.

Sullivan is here to let me know just how out of control we really are. What a silly illusion our control was and is. He's been teething and fighting a cold that's exascerbated by the teething. And he slept, well, like shit last night. He was up at least three times, crying and requiring. At 2:30 this morning, I changed a big wet diaper and put him down again, he slept for a bit until about 5. Then got restless again.

It is a few minutes past 7 now and we're UP. Oh boy! And he's already been very demanding of food, drink and satisfaction. He is quick with a smile or a scream depending on his satisfaction.

My lesson is learned and I will not presume control that I do not have. Now please go back to sleep, Sully. Pretty please? No wait, its too late now, you'll just take a nap later this morning, how's that sound, boss?