I remember a brief and beautiful moment when my grandfather and I sat down in the only diner in his hometown and talked about the war — that would be World War II. He had never discussed it with me before and I had to press hard for him to finally open up.

There was many things we discussed, but one the handful that always stayed with me was this: he said he had never been as tired as he was during the war. He said there is a tired that a combat infantryman feels that is deepest tired a human can fathom.

He and one of his buddies would take turns sleeping while walking. I still find that hard to believe, but I’ve talked with other veterans who have said the same thing. His buddy would march in front of him and fall asleep, and Grandfather would turn him when they turned, stop him when they stopped, and his buddy would sleep through it all. Then they would switch, and my grandfather would sleep march. It seems incredible.

I guess there is probably no more profound tired than the tired of a combat soldier. My grandfather said he was still tired and that was fifty years after the fighting stopped.

I discussed the soldier tired as a preface and to show that I understand the relativity of my state right now. But I have to imagine that “parent tired” is —although certainly not in the same league — the second most tired in the world.

I have been lumbering in a kind of sub-functioning stupor for the last few weeks. I’m sure my paltry writing of the last week might have been an indicator for you. It’s not that it’s gotten better, I’ve just gotten more used to the stupor.

My six month-old is cutting teeth. We have moved him from the bed to his own room, which for the first few nights was a godsend. He slept through the night. Then those little white buds of doom began scratching at the interior of his gums and they have unleashed hell on my circadian rhythm. The often-brief naps I get during the day are near to worthless. They are like bailing the Titanic with a thimble.

It doesn’t help that his last nighttime feeding is at 11:00. I really like to be in bed by 10:30, but lately it’s been hovering around 12:30. Then Chang (I think that’s what I call him in this blog) gets up at 3:00 sometimes, at 5:00 sometimes. The other times my oldest wakes at 7:30 or so and is up until his nap in late afternoon.

Honestly, I forgot how tired I was with my first kid. Until now.

When my wife had her leg removed and got skin grafts, when they bathed her, it was so excruciatingly painful that they gave her an amnesiac drug so, even though she felt it as it happened, she would not remember how painful it was. That way, when they needed to bath her again, she wouldn’t pull out her IV needle and plunge it through the nurse’s eye.

Something happens after the first child, some kind of natural amnesiac drug that makes us think, “You know, I wasn’t that tired. Squeezing that thing through my vagina wasn’t that painful. My wife really didn’t squeeze my hand that hard during labor.”

Well, let me tell you, I am so tired that…

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