Infant Mind Games

A few days ago, I moaned and whined about Lauren giving us hell with ten straight hours of screaming. It would appear that she's cunningly developed an even MORE effective way to send her doting parents completely f-ing nutty.

And don't give me that shit about a five-week-old not being able to form complex plans of vengeance. I am utterly CONVINCED that she saw me laughing when she pulled her own hair so hard she screamed (HAW!) and thought to herself, "Oh, That's funny, is it? Let's see how quick with the laughs you are NEXT TIME, fatarse."

Call me crazy if you want. I know exactly what genetics she has coursing through her tiny little veins.

I KNOW.

Usually, when she arks up the goal is to try whatever we can think of (short of crushing sedatives in her bottle, of course) to get her to sleep, knowing that if we can get her to drop off we'll have a good few hours to catch our breath and relax.

Sure, her marathon efforts are never particularly pleasant, but there is a certain comfort in having something at which to aim.

Tonight, over the course of five hours or so, we managed to get her to sleep no less that FIVE different f-ing times- only for her to wake up screaming after a fifteen minute power nap each f-ing time.

After the first few times, we were shattered. It's one thing to put in a marathon effort to get her to sleep. It is a whole OTHER bag of chips to know that even if the planets align and you miraculously get her to nod off, the fun and games might STILL not be over.

That shit is f-ing DRAINING, yo.

You wanna know HOW bad it is? The missus has decided to give up dairy products for a while, after reading online that somehow dairy products, when passed on through breast milk, can cause infant evilness. Now, I have a feeling that it won't make a jot of difference, but for the wifey to give up milk, cheese and CHOCOLATE F-ING BISCUITS voluntarily? That's MAJOR.

I should make it clear, though. Even if Lauren IS doing her level best to scramble our brains, and even if we DO feel like tits on a bull half the time, being a parent is still the coolest f-ing thing ever. Watching her curled up, fast asleep on my chest, seeing the unbelievably cute faces she pulls in the couple of minutes after she wakes up.

Hell, even hearing the ungodly belches that emanate from her little throat never fails to bring a smile to my face.

At times, it may be enough to make you re-examine the benefits of celibacy, but I still wouldn't trade it for anything.

Honest!