The Late Late Late Show, with Dad and Kennedy

Palm Coast Observer
Opinion

People ask my wife and me all the time, “How’s the baby? Is she sleeping through the night?”

I believe the most appropriate response to that is, “LOL.” Or, to more accurately convey our slap-happy, sleep-deprived, manic state, “ LOLOLOLOL.”

No, like most newborns, dear baby Kennedy is not sleeping through the night. I do my best not to complain about it in the morning, though, because whenever I do, my wife gives me a look that seems to indicate I actually slept through the worst of it.

I was up with Kennedy at about 1 a.m. recently while Hailey got a much-needed, late-night nap, and my task was to prepare a bottle, feed the baby, swaddle her, wait until she falls asleep and then put her in the crib.

So, with the baby in one arm, I got out my supplies: bottle, rubber nipple, round thing that screws on between the nipple and bottle, can of formula powder, jug of purified holy water that is supposedly safer for babies than tap water but which is probably just a fear-mongering scam for someone to make money.

I poured a dash of holy water into the bottle — exactly 2 ounces on the first try, I might add — and then scooped up some formula powder. In my sleepy daze, I accidentally dumped just a bit of powder on the counter, and I stared at the miniature mountain range for a long time. Would it be so bad to brush it into the bottle, to save the powder? No one will ever know.

But, if Kennedy were to get sick or develop some rare childhood disease, I would always remember this moment and never be able to forgive myself. What if there were a stray carcinogenic particle on the counter, and I swept it into her bottle in an attempt to save a few cents?

So, I brushed the powder mountain into the sink. Such is the parental guilt complex. It’s a tremendous economic driver for our country.

On went the nipple, and I shook the bottle, and we were in business, just Kennedy and me. I sat on the couch with her and watched her guzzle, surrounded by the soft light of a lamp. She suckled like her life depended on it — as if — gasp! — a whole two hours might go by — gasp! — before she would be given anything else to drink.

With the feeding done, next was swaddling. This is one of my favorite parts of being a dad because its so exact, so efficient. You burrito-ize the baby, using her own weight to keep the blanket tight underneath her — no clips or tape necessary. And as a result, she is no longer jolted awake by those random arm twitches.

Almost instantly, she fell asleep in my arms. And for just a split second, with her eyes closed, she accidentally smiled. Just like that, it was time to put her in the crib, and it was time for me to hurry up and fall asleep before she woke up again.

But when you have a beautiful sleeping child in your arms, and you think about how soon she will be eating real food, walking, running, reading and going to school — when you think about how little time you will actually get to spend holding her before she becomes a little girl instead of a little baby — all of a sudden, you’re not in such a rush to sleep the night away after all.