No Sleep for New Parents

No more nighttime feedings! Timing really is everything in life. I mean, think about all the things in your life that you’ve accomplished simply because it was the right time—you just happened to be there when so and so happened.

Consider how many hours of your life you’ll have saved (by the time you die) because you happened to catch that bothersome string of red lights downtown just right and instead of accelerating like a madman only to have to slam on brakes at each subsequent light, you instead cruised right through them as if you had Jedi powers (“there is no red light”).

My timing has been pretty great lately, but kinda not in a good way. I mean, I could harken all the way back to the day I answered the phone from an old boss and listened as he wooed me back to my current job, but rather, let’s stick to the present here (focus people!). After our first son was born, for months and months he woke up multiple times during the night and Career-mom was incapable of letting him cry himself back to sleep, opting instead to go in and give him a bottle. Which worked; but it just happened 2-3 times each night until he was almost one and a half.

Our youngest son is now seven months old and for whatever reason, Career-mom has decided that a little crying is OK after all (note to self: mentally pat back later for being right yet again).

The result: In the last week, the youngest has slept from 8:30 p.m. to approximately 4:00 a.m. nonstop three out of the last four nights. The fourth night he woke up twice. The only problem with this is, my daggum brain hasn’t given up on the idea that at any moment throughout the night, I’ll be awakened to the sound of a crying baby, so from about 1 a.m. on, I’m on full sleep-alert.

You know what sleep-alert is right? It’s when you’re mostly asleep, but the slightest noise wakes you up. Well, of these last four nights, I’ve been the one to hear the baby wake up around 4 a.m., mostly because at this magic hour, something in my head switches on and I come awake. And surprisingly, usually, within 5-10 minutes of my full waking up, the baby starts crying. Which also means that by the time I’m finished feeding and changing him, it’s near 4:30 a.m. and I’ve got to get up in another hour anyway…so why not just stay up?

So I do. Love that timing!

I don’t really mind the getting up as long as he goes back to sleep, and he does. But, while getting 6 hours of sleep per night is usually enough for me, there is something to be said for getting 7 ½ hours of sleep.

Now, if only Career-mom and I can sync up our “timing” for a little post-baby relationship-building…I’ll be a happy man!

All’s fair in love and HR

Female Vs Female?

In the good old days, when men ruled the office environment, no one had to couch their comments in political correctness, or worry that something said or did would result in administrative actions. I’m not saying that’s wrong or right; I’m just sayin’.

But now, in many companies, there are just as many female employees as there are male, and we all have to watch what we say and do.

So, imagine Career-mom’s surprise when her boss came into her office the other day and said she needed to speak with her in her office, only to find out that she had been reported to HR.

The Backstory: Career-mom (my wife) had to attend a meeting out of town last week. Her manager (also a woman) was in attendance along with one or two male employees whom Career-mom is friends with. They met with several female Account Managers about something that probably wouldn’t interest anyone here.

Well, apparently during this meeting, as the air conditioning whirred away cooling off the room, Career-mom and her manager started…um…nipping and this also apparently offended one of the female account managers in the room.

Yes, let me succinctly capture this for you: Another woman got offended over two women’s clothed nipples.

Career-mom and her manager’s initial reaction was one of hysterical laughter, followed closely by, “How would you even phrase that complaint to HR?”

Guys, take heart. Apparently flagrant overreaction in the workplace is not limited to male-female situations.

My suggestion to Career-mom was a counter-complaint about having her breasts ogled and how it creates a hostile work environment.

Hey, two can play at this ridiculous game!

Take ye this bread and…try not to crunch too loudly

After nearly two months of church-skipping, I made a command decision this weekend and announced that we would be going to church. Now, I’m not thrilled with our current church, but it does have its “up” side. For one, it has an early service, which lets us get in and get out quickly. It also has a good childcare department and it’s the right size (not too small, not too big). And lastly, it’s uncomplicated. From the parking, to the quick-exit, I know where everything is; I know where I’m going; it’s just…comfortable, for lack of a better word.

My wife (hereafter to be known as “Career-mom”) doesn’t really like our church that much and holds onto the irrational belief that the perfect church is out there somewhere and all we have to do is visit enough of them to find it. She’s playing with statistics here. I, hating little more than being the new guy in a new church, try and avoid this as much as possible and I got lucky this week because the two churches she was interested in, didn’t appear to have much for the kids. So new scary church out…old comfortable church in. Yah me…I win!

Now, our oldest son doesn’t like going to the kids’ church, so after dropping off the baby, my wife brought him into the big church with us. To his credit, he did very well, only whispering overly-loud one or two times and certainly not reaching the volume that two children did about five pews ahead of us, which prompted one of the bouncers (AKA: elders of the church) to get up and politely ask them to take their child elsewhere.

But wouldn’t you know it…this Sunday was Communion Sunday. Unlike Catholics, we Pentecostals take communion at our pews. Consisting of little unleavened wafers (think tiny oyster crackers w/out salt) and an itty-bitty cup of juice, Communion for us is a complicated affair of holding onto your micro-wafer while simultaneously trying to pass the juice-laden tray to the next person without causing a complete disaster. My son was sitting next to Career-mom and I noted, quite amusedly, that she got sacraments for him too.

The whole sacrament distribution process takes about five minutes (we’re very efficient), and after everything was passed around and the Pastor had reverently recited the proper passage from the Bible about how the bread represented Jesus’ body and the juice his blood, we all partook…it was all very holy and quiet.

But just as I was putting my now-empty plastic cup of juice in the holder, my son looks over at Career-mom and me and says, “But I’m still hungry.”

You know you can’t get mad at that!