Peer pressure, sleepless nights, and hey, a year!

After listening to my mom rant on the phone last night about how I am "so talented with words, like Tina Fey, it's a shame [I] can't find a way to capitalize on it," I've decided to try to actually get more involved with my blog instead of the occasional, "Oh hey, I still have that thing?" And what better way than to jump on board with that sexy Miss Nutcase and get involved with National Blog Posting Month? Sound groovy. It is. It's very groovy, baby.

So, though it's still a smidge early, I'm going to kick things off by announcing that Punky has begun boycotting sleep, thus quickly zapping my will to live. I think back with wistful fondness of my selfish college days where I'd pass out and sleep oh, I don't know, more than three hours in a row? Or sleep in past 8? Man. Those were good days.

I sometimes wonder if someday Punky will discover my blog, most likely when she's 15 and hating the world and me, and read everything I wrote about her and come storming through the house screaming, "YOU HATE ME!!! YOU ALWAYS HATED ME!!! I READ YOUR BLOG AND YOU CAN'T DENY IT!!!" So I'm going to take this moment to speak directly to Punky of the Future and tell her this: I love you more than life itself. You are the greatest love of my life and my life is so much better with you in it. But good god-DAMN, kid, I miss sleep.

The thing that sucks is that she's so damn sporatic about it. Some nights she'll sleep straight through til 8 a.m. Some nights she gets up every two hours like a freaking Swiss clock. Part of me almost wishes that if she's going to be up 3-4 times a night, at the very least she could just be regular about it because it throws my entire internal clock through the ringer when she does this.

And I'm not against crying it out. I'm not. But damnit, it's just so much easier to stumble into her room, whip out a boob, and let her get it over with and go back to bed -- all taking a grand total of about 10 minutes. Otherwise it'll be the routine of Screaming Tortured Punky for hours on end, while A and I both try to pretend to sleep while quickly stealing glances at each other of "Are you going to get her? Should I get her? We should get her." In the meantime, Punky is getting so upset and worked up that she then cannot fall asleep at all. And nobody sleeps. I've tried Crying It Out. It doesn't work for us. Not right now anyway.

She fights naps with a fury unknown to infants, but she does eventually sleep. I think my kid just hates sleep, further enforcing my belief that this is not my child. Paternity isn't even a question, since she's A's mini-me, but how could I spawn a child that doesn't like sleep? Doesn't she realize how amazing it is? Because I haven't had a solid night's sleep in over nine months, and I sure as shit miss it.

Seriously. Lack of quality REM sleep is killing my soul. Even more than my atheist rants.

And hey, tomorrow's Halloween, which means it's been a whole year since A and I took off for Vegas and got hitched in a tiny little wedding chapel on the strip (but tastefully done, thankyouverymuch). So of course I must profess my undying love to A, the greatest non-baby love of my life, my best friend, my baby daddy, my partner in crime. He doesn't read my blog, but I'm just putting that out there, too. It's been an amazing year with a man who is my greatest friend and an incredible father. I love you, you dirty old man.