When I was 10, a few friends and I took it upon ourselves to break the sleep barrier by staying up all night. Like Chris Columbus and everybody in The Right Stuff, we would step boldly into the unknown for the sake of exploration and the betterment of mankind (But if you ask Howard Zinn, Columbus was just in it for the bucks). Armed with Pixy Stix and Jolt Cola, we fought our way towards dawn, losing only one man in the journey.

Staying up all night when you’re young is exciting and dangerous. When you’re under 13, it’s all sugar and giggles. When you’re in high school it may be alcohol related, but no less thrilling and taboo. When you get to college it can become a semi regular occurrence, be it cramming for a test or finishing a keg. It loses a little luster when the fear of a parent discovering you diminishes, but is no less satisfying. I used to LOVE all nighters in all shapes and forms.

Well guess fucking what, Internet? I’m a parent now, and this shit sucks.

For the past 3 nights I have been up all night, and it’s gone down the same way. Around 11 PM or so the Redhead goes to bed, and I stay up with Fyona. Since we currently have a one bedroom apartment (We’re moving soon, either to my 3rd apartment in the same building or buying a house), it helps for one of us to stay up with the baby to try and quench the cries before they get bad. Usually, Fyona won’t make a sound until the second I lay my head on the couch, without fail. She’ll be passed out and snoozing, but as soon as I decide to let my eyes close, she’s up. Really up. 2 nights ago she was up for 4 hours straight starting at 3 AM, requiring constant movement. It’s one thing to play cards and drink all night followed by 30 chicken nuggets and a video game, and it’s another thing entirely to be falling asleep, then be required to due 180 straight minutes of hardcore cardio while being kicked, scratched, and puked on. 

(Although Rhonda probably knows what I’m talking about.)

And while I love her, she can test the boundaries of that love. Babies can scream, there’s no argument there. They can fight and squirm and make even the simplest task nearly impossible. But where do they get the commitment? No matter how fired up I am about something, it’s going to level off a bit after a few hours. Not so with Fyona. This kid will go go go, stopping only when the assumed (and incorrect) solution is provided. If I want her to sleep for 15 minutes, I heat a bottle of milk. She’ll pass out right when it’s ready. If I want her to wake up screaming, I merely let the milk cool on the counter. By the time that bottle reaches a non-drinkable temperature, she’ll be up and needing it instantly. During the day this is amusing, but at night it’s more anger inducing than talking politics with my in-laws. At night I need her to be quiet. Any slight utterance wakes up the mom, and no matter how much I complain, she’s getting much less sleep than me.

So it’s 9 AM the next morning, and I’ve been up all night. I have some acid reflux. I feel like I could sleep for days or rip the walls down. I have to go to the bathroom. I need to shower. I need FOOD. Oh, wait. Scratch all that bullshit; she’s up. Fyona wants to be bounced. If I stop for the time it takes to itch my nose, she screams like a banshee on the moors. I can’t even finish thoughts, because she requires so much god damn attent…