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Sleepless nights

This is just a short blog post: Sleepless nights and their toll on us.
As it stands, X is working fulltime, and I am managing life as a full-time stay-at-home daddy. It all goes well, except that little YY just somehow does not go to sleep for a full night.
We have had countless bits of advice and we have read countless “expert” articles on how to get our little rascal to actually let us have a good night’s sleep. But none of it seems to work.
He wakes up every night, in the middle of the night, without fail. Right now, I am typing this as a semi-zombie, as a man who grumpily gets up every time little YY wakes up crying, and I know – I just know – he won’t go back to sleep until we take him to our bed.
People have told us to stick to a ritual. To be stubborn. Don’t give in. Be strong and find our “inner German”, and find our “inner Luke”, and may the force be with us, and so on.
But how? How?
It’s not easy at all. We are both from easy-going backgrounds, and we’re not terribly disciplined people ourselves. We’re just people who want to get our good night’s sleep.
But the battle shall rage on. We’ll figure it out. I’ve seen some people say that it just all of a sudden changes one night and they figure out how to sleep, for real, on their own, and then it’s just peaches and cream after that.
Hopefully that’s what happens to us. Because otherwise, it can be hard work!

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Tagun! Tagun! Tagun!

When in a normal state of sanity – and more so, a rested state – moms and pops everywhere will rejoice in their experience of hearing their little one utter their very first word ever. Usually, it’s dada.
Or mama.
Or most likely, gaga. And that’s nothing to do with Lady Gaga, believe me. Ours, though, has resorted to different means of first-word utterances.
He has already done the whole dada-mama thing, but we think he’s not really in the proper mindset to actually know what he’s saying. Actually, he has repeated “Kaka!” after X uttered it to him. But that’s for another story…
The other day, while hanging out with us in the bathtub (or was it in his room? I can hardly remember in my dazed, half-sleep state), he started belting out his first word: TAGUN! He would do this again and again.
“Tagun!”
“Tagun!”
“Tagun!”
It was like a weird motto. A Celtic rallying cry. A whoop of joy. A sound of euphoria. And we thought it was immensely cute and cool.
Mind you, we’re not those kind of ridiculously, annoyingly proud parents who think their kid’s first word should be something like xylophone, idiosyncrasy or another equally polysyllable word.
However, “Tagun!” was such a cool thing to hear, especially from his little mouth, and especially for us because it was such a fun word to say.
I googled it. First, “tagum”, because in Portuguese, the “m” at the end of a word is usually pronounced like an “n”. Turns out Tagum is the name of a city in the Philippines. That’s pretty cool.
But then I googled “tagun”, and up came a series of photos of bicycles. You know the series of bikes that you can sit down on and pedal with your legs in the air? The really awkward looking ones? Those are apparently Taguns – either the actual name for the bikes, or a brand name for that bike. But we don’t care about that.
What we do care about is this: We were looking for toothpicks in the kitchen last night so we could make our chicken cordon bleu for dinner, and after merciless minutes of searching, we finally found them.
With a whoop of joy, I found myself jumping up and down in front of little YY and shouting “TAGUN! TAGUN! TAGUN!”
Why? Just because it sounded good and it was fun to say, and most of all, it was fun to see YY’s face when we shouted the word. It was a look of recognition on his face. I think he actually understood.
And, I hope, he knows that he just made up his first word which is currently making its way into the mutated English language of our little home.