I can hear the national anthem now . . .

When they make sleep deprivation an Olympic sport, I will be a medal contender.  It will be me, Dane, and some poor sod from Gitmo.  Or maybe just me and two guys from Gitmo, with Dane just missing the podium.  (Sorry, honey, I know you trained hard to get here.)

It will be an interesting competition, and you should watch it.  The other guys are heavy favorites because they have been training down in Cuba for a lot longer than Dane and I, and their trainers were frankly sadistic.  On the flip side, I hear that a lot of the crazy CIA guys who were keeping everyone awake in Gitmo got tired and went home early in the Obama administration, right around the time that Dane's and my enthusiastic trainers, Tristan and Duncan, were just getting warmed up. Dane and I are new to this game, but we're relatively fresh and scrappy.

Perhaps you're thinking it's unkind of me to compare my darling children to paid government torturers.  I won't defend myself.  I assume that anyone reading this knows that I write in good humor, with a dash of raw honesty.  We are very tired.

So here are some new parenting pro-tips -- or amateur tips, since we're going for Olympic gold.  If you have a family history of bad allergies -- even if you don't know about it! -- try really, really hard not to have a C-section.  Your children's gut flora will thank you.  If, for compelling reasons related to saving the life of your children, you opt to have a C-section and then allow your children to take extended courses of IV antibiotics, perhaps you should think hard before moving those same children to the pollen and mold dappled heart of the Appalachian hardwood forest.  It is truly amazing how much sleep you can lose to two runny noses.  Alternatively, if you want to crowd another guy from Gitmo off that podium, ignoring all my advice may be an excellent training regimen.  Just be warned, everyone in this competition is exhausted and crazy enough to pull a Tonya Harding on you.  Good luck!