This is what today looked like.
Of course, there was that one period in the middle of the day, where I successfully got him to sleep for about an hour and a half or so. That meant that I could sleep for an hour and a half, or I could eat something, go to the bathroom, wash some bottles, pump some milk, straighten up a bit... I decided that getting a little bit of sleep was the better deal.
That was, as we used to say when I taught kindergarten, a POOR CHOICE. I woke up, and decided to go pump. I was three minutes in and Sawyer woke up, angry that he was not in my arms. I stopped pumping, ran to the bedroom and grabbed him. I then got to wash bottles - one handed. I got to warm up some milk - one handed. I got to pour milk from a flimsy plastic bag into a bottle - that's right folks, one handed. All this while he screamed at me at the top of his lungs. I'm amazed at the decibel level that such a little person is capable of reaching, seriously.
I wonder how long this is going to go on.
I'd get five minutes here and there where he'd try to psych me out, and pretend to sleep.
Then as soon as I'd be lulled into feeling like relief was in sight, he'd be like, PSYCH!!! and wake up and holler at me some more. By the time my husband got home, he had been yelling at me off and on for two and a half hours straight, with no sign of a nap in sight. I had resorted to eating the peanut M&Ms I found in the coffee table drawer because I was so hungry and looking for food one handed was too hard. A good portion of my hair had fallen out of my clip, but since I needed two hands to put it up, I had been unable to fix it.
So yeah, I got run over by an eight pound truck.
Tomorrow will be better.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home