It’s said that if you go long enough without sleeping, you can go insane. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon.
Not that I’ve got much room to complain. Ada’s a beautiful baby, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have her.
So far, she seems to be the spitting image of her mom, which is obviously a good thing. I’m sure it’ll cause me no end of headaches further on down the line, though. I’m already having nightmares about lines of horny high school boys forming outside the front door. Fortunately, that’s a long way off at this point.
Wanda and I have been taking turns with a lot of the parental duties — particularly the ones involving having to get up in the middle of the night because Ada’s grumpy about something. And by “grumpy,” I mean screaming at the top of her tiny little lungs. I’m constantly amazed at the decibel level that can be produced by such a tiny person. It’s not just the noise level, either… there’s this parental instinct I’ve discovered I have that makes the sound of your baby crying raise your adrenaline levels by a staggering amount when you hear it in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s because I’m new at this whole dad thing, but when I hear Ada cry I am instantly wide awake and sometimes I’m rushing to her cradle before I even realize I’m out of bed. It’s like some kind of overprotective autopilot has taken over my body and all it cares about is whether or not the baby is happy. It’s like Ada has a little mind control device inside her that has taken over her daddy’s mind. Babies are evil. Cute, but completely, utterly evil.
Thankfully, as time passes, Ada seems to be getting better at the whole sleeping like a human thing. She’s still prone to the occasional random screaming at odd hours for a bottle or a fresh diaper or some other problem I’m often completely unable to determine, but lately it seems like the times Wanda and I are both able to be asleep at the same time are happening a bit more frequently.
It’s funny, but even something as small as noticing Ada is sleeping a bit more regularly is something I find vaguely terrifying. It means she’s growing, and developing, and getting just a little bit closer to becoming an actual functioning person. That scares me to death. The consequences if I screw this up aren’t something I care to think about.
Thankfully, I think the kid’s got a decent shot. She may have a clueless dork for a dad, but she’s got Wanda for a mom. If my calculations are correct, that means Ada’s got at least a 50/50 chance of turning out OK.