3:20

     No, it isn't the time as I write. No, it's not my average marathon time. It also isn't the amount of time it takes for me to get myself and my child out the door (although it's not far off).
3 hours and 20 minutes happens to be the length of time that Junior cried today...straight. From 2:00 until 2 minutes ago, when I had the bright idea to plug in a box fan in his room and crank it on high. Ever seen the movie "Life As We Know It", with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel? I watched a snippet of it last night for the 20th time and as I was nearing the end of my rope this afternoon I remembered a scene where they hold the baby up to the fan above the stove in the kitchen. Quick as a flash, I grab Junior and the next thing he knows, he's being rocked over the stove with the fan blasting. For about a minute and a half, there was peace for the first time in hours. It was just the two of us, gently swaying and enjoying the white noise of the fan. It gave me enough time to remark to myself (again) that he was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. (It's hard to see all his bee-yoo-tifulness when he's red in the face and screaming.) And then the peace and love fest was over, and he reared back and deafened me in my left ear.
Today also happens to mark his one month birthday...and the first day of his life that when he cries, actual tears come out. It makes his unhappy moments that much sadder for me. Real tears=real heartbreak in my book. Even if they're really of the crocodile variety.
I thank the Lord that I remembered the old white box fan of Dusty's that we'd stored away in Beau's closet. I had meant to take it apart and give it a good cleaning before its first use in Junior's room, but this was an emergency. Dust be danged. My son was going to go hoarse and I was going to go deaf, and the dog was going to wear a trench in the floor from nervously pacing back and forth. (Junior's crying really gets to him.)

                                                                      "Is he alright??"
I expected the dog to bring his bones to Junior's door any minute. He did that once, in a sweet and obvious effort to cheer the baby up when Junior was pulling an all-nighter (and coincidentally, so were Mr. Wonderful and I).
All I can say is, between levels 1, 2 and 3 on the fan, Junior was only happy with "3", and is currently snoozing peacefully (or is he? the fan is so loud I'm not sure I could hear him anyway!), and has been long enough to allow me to blog.  :)

So, tell me parents: Any secret weapons or tricks out there that works/worked on your little one?