Anthony K. Valley

Early this morning, I started updating my Day One journal just in case I forgot the events that happened overnight. And I forgot until I saw this entry saved on my phone. After editing for atrocious grammar and syntax publishing my night. It was eventful.

3:13 AM.

Baby girl was restless enough to wake me from my slumber, causing me to go to her room and see about her. But I had to make a nature call first.

One moment, please.

After washing and sanitizing my hands in the bathroom, she was calm and quiet again. Well, ain’t that a bunch of nothing?

Her restlessness was enough to awaken the three-week-old baby boy. His vocalizations escalated from a whimper to a bloodcurdling scream within 60 seconds. Patience is not this little dude’s forte. He will make a good voice actor if he maintains these chops, though. I digress. I will do that; it’s 3 AM in the morning.

Anyway, 60 seconds was just enough time to make a bottle and grab him from his bed before he woke up Stacey. The goal here is simple: DO NOT WAKE STACEY UP.

I fed him but he was not really hungry. I’m thinking he’s just a baby whose sleep was interrupted and who wanted desperately to see his dream world again.

I wonder what babies dream about. What was I dreaming about moments ago? Funny, all of that seems to have washed away.

I held his tiny body until he started to drift away—lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic bouncing of a chair in which I rock these babies.

I have no idea what kind of chair this is or if it is really a rocking chair. I just know it’s a chair that allows me to rock the babies and me to sleep.

And then… baby girl starts getting restless again. Enough to awaken and notice that I am holding another baby in her chair and rocking that baby to sleep. With all the intelligence and jealousy that an eight-month-old can muster, she starts her sequence of pouting and crying because she should be the one in my arms, not the new guy.

Seriously, I have no real metrics for the intelligence quota of infants. But this one seems quite aware and has recently activated the jealously module of her programming.

With the coordination and grace of a synchronized swimmer performing a solo act at a community pool on opening day, I whisked baby boy to his bed and grabbed baby girl out of hers. We have one rule: Do not wake Stacey up. This is my one job. No matter what else happens, I have to do my duty.

For a brief moment all is right in the world, baby girl starts falling asleep in my arms, rocking in her chair with her daddy. Until baby boy starts screaming from another room. Perhaps it dawned on him in his dream world that he only finished half of his bottle and lacked the energy points or stamina needed to defeat the Big Boss on Level 18. Maybe that made him realize that he is still hungry and needed to exit the dream world for real-world replenishment.

Do not wake up, Stacey, kids. We can do this if we focus. Stay with me.

At this point, the almost sleeping baby girl is fully awake and reloading the jealousy module that was dormant in her mind. I place baby girl on the floor to grab baby boy from his bed and start the rest of his bottle from minutes ago.

I mean, really, I’m certain Level 18 is probably the farthest he has progressed in his short life. It’s probably a big deal to him so he needs this stop at the commissary and refuel, no doubt.

While holding him with one hand, I make a bottle for baby girl who thankfully can feed herself. I’m feeding the boy while the girl feeds herself in her bed with her head slightly elevated to prevent bad things from happening.

Crisis averted? Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. Can you repeat the question?

Both bottles are empty. Both start crying. Well, now the mission is in serious jeopardy. Dude, we cannot work around this obstacle.

Inner self, zip it. We have no time for your pessimistic anxiety at the moment. That does not start until 5:45 AM. It’s on the calendar.

Having done this several times now. I process a needs assessment in my mind in an effort to mitigate what will certainly become a failed attempt at maintaining spousal continual sleep.

The results of said evaluation: Baby boy wants physical contact and baby girl does too.

Ah, ha! Got it.

Hold baby boy in one arm (because he is so tiny) while rubbing girl’s head as she lays in her bed. This will cause her to fall asleep and maybe him too.

Massage. Done? Sure. Baby Boy is asleep already. I stop. She screams!

Which wakes baby boy…

When will this end cycle end?

I keep holding him while standing over her bed and rubbing her. It is like wash, rinse, repeat in this room right now.

He falls asleep and I walk away to put him back to bed. One baby down and out. She is still awake and irritated that I left her presence.

I’m back and now we reach her favorite spot. Finally rocking back and forth in the chair in the room. Her chair. Her room. Her daddy.

Eventually she falls asleep with a full snore that could rival a 50-year-old man. It’s two hours later. It’s 5:15 AM. Stacey will be getting up soon, but it will not be because the babies did it; not this time.

One job completed”—we did not wake up Stacey.