Feeble Knees

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Irrational Exuberance?

This ain't no cautious optimism.

Former Federal Reserve Chief Alan Greenspan (happy trails to him!) coined this curious phrase to describe the forces that were driving up stock prices in the 90's. Today I use it to describe my state of mind upon getting Bug to go down for a nap - uncontested - for the second day in a row.

Yesterday Bug napped from 9:45 to twelve noon. NOON! I had to keep checking to see if he was dead. Seriously. I don't think he's napped that long since the day he was born. Last night he actually had one THREE HOUR stretch of sleep. Two hours, two hours and then THREE HOURS.

Permit me to pause a moment to thrust my arms into the air and yell a silent "YES!"

Looking at the news headlines this morning (what a novel concept! Reading news headlines!) I realized it was February 1, 2006. He is exactly four months old today. Could it be that Bug's Reign of Terror (as January 2006 shall henceforth be known) could really be subsiding? Could the worst be over?

It's so quiet. I should go check him.

10:27 a.m: Is still sleeping, is not dead.

Amazing. Is this how other people live? Is this what life with an infant CAN be like?

To borrow a line from a favorite movie: "Inconceivable!"

As I was pacing the floor this morning at 1:30, swaying and rocking Bug back to something that was almost but not entirely like sleep, I was plagued by a sudden attack of GilbertandSullivanitis:

You're a regular wreck,
with a crick in your neck,
and no wonder you snore,
for your head's on the floor,
and you've needles and pins
from your soles to your shins,
and your flesh is a-creep,
for your left leg's asleep,
and you've cramp in your toes,
and a fly on your nose, and some fluff in your lung,
and a feverish tongue,
and a thirst that's intense,
and a general sense
that you haven't been sleeping in clover

Iolanthe, Act II; Gilbert and Sullivan

An entirely spot-on description of my physical state. In rhyme. In an altogether maddening sing-song cadence, just perfect for driving myself absolutely slap-happy in the wee hours of the night. How wonderful.

10:42 a.m. Is still sleeping, is not dead. One hour. ONE HOUR!

[delirious laughter]

I think, I think maybe, I think maybe... I shouldn't say it. I just shouldn't say it. I'll just let this one play itself out. Maybe, just maybe...

But the darkness has passed,
and it's daylight at last,
and the night has been long--
ditto ditto my song--
and thank goodness they're both of them over!

Iolanthe, Act II; Gilbert and Sullivan

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