Seriously, don't even bother

I have nothing to say today. No, really. If it wasn't NaBloPoMo, I would have skipped today. No funny quips, no amusing kid stories, nothing.

Emmie woke up four times last night for the second night in a row. I am beyond exhausted. I am working my ass off on SnarkyBabies right now and I really need some sleep. So that's where I am headed right now.

Emmie: Ten months

Dear Emmie,

It's double-digit time for you little girl! A whole 10 months you've been with us. And wow, have you done a lot this last month. I am pretty sure this has been one of your busiest months yet.



Now that you've been mobile for several weeks, you're getting more and more proficient at getting around. You still army-crawl 99 percent of the time, but more and more, you are taking a few tentative crawls on your hands and knees. But the army-crawling gets you where you need to go -- and pretty darn quickly I might add -- so you really don't see any need to do it the other way. But you are a pro at sitting yourself up now. You started pushing yourself up from your side with one arm, and now you can back yourself into a seated position from your hands and knees as well.

You are also an old pro at pulling yourself up now, as evidenced by the fact I found you standing in your crib grinning at me about two weeks ago. At this point, nothing is safe from you. You pull up on the couch, the ottoman, the exersaucer, your crib, the fireplace and my leg when I am standing in your general vicinty. You once tried to pull yourself up on Jack, but he was having none of it and you just toppled right over when he scrambled to his feet to get away from you.



I have seen you stand unassisted for about seven seconds on a couple of occasions, and you're starting to cruise along the ottoman to get to toys or remotes out of your reach. You so love the remote and even know to point it at the TV when you are playing with the buttons. Smart girl, but don't even think about turning off the football game to watch PBS.

The vacuum is getting quite a workout these days because you are smack in the middle of the "put everything in your mouth" stage. Last week you tried to consume a plaster chip, a dried-up piece of pancake that had fallen off your brother's plate undetected, a torn-up piece of coloring book and 571 pieces of fuzz off the carpet. I could vacuum four times a day and you would still spot the teeniest piece of string from across the room and make a beeline for what you hope is your afternoon snack. While it is resulting in a much cleaner house, it's still pretty annoying to be fishing stuff out of your cheeks all the time.



It's not like you're not getting enough food at mealtimes. You are starting to eat more tablefood here and there, like pieces of pancake and turkey or scrambled egg yolks. I am pretty sure you would live on Veggie Booty alone if we let you, but you're pretty amenable to eating the two jars of baby food we give you at all meals. Because you still can't have any dairy products, we were lucky to find a new yogurt made from coconut milk. Because it's dairy- and soy-free, you are allowed to eat it and I must say, it's quite tasty. You gobble it up and look pretty content, so it's a good thing.

The breastfeeding has gotten a lot better this month after last month's distractable disasters. You are more on task and doing longer sessions, which makes me feel better about how much you are taking in. Of course, you are getting more in during the night because YOU ARE WAKING UP MULTIPLE TIMES AGAIN. To say I am tired of being tired is an understatement. This past week, you were sick again and that meant lots of wakeups where only the boob would console you. Because you were sick, I took pity on you and fed you every time you cried. Which one night was at 10 p.m. and 1, 3, 5, 6 and 7 a.m. It's like you were a newborn again. Wheee! But once you appeared over the worst of it, I got you back on a somewhat-better schedule by making you cry out the first wakeup. Last night you were awake for the first time at 1 a.m., which is better than 11 p.m., but not great by any means. You had been sleeping from 7:30 p.m. to 5 a.m. for a few weeks and I am hoping you will start doing that again. Real soon.



As for your sunny disposition, it continues to be the most charming part of your personality. You are almost always smiley and happy and content to babble away at your toys or your books. You stop to look at your brother like he is crazy whenever he deems you acceptable to play near. You save your best smiles and laughs for Daddy because apparently he is the light of your life. You definitely don't like it when I leave a room, but you can be pacified if Daddy is around.

One of the only times it is acceptable for me to actually leave you in the other room for a few minutes is when your brother is around. You love to watch him run around and play and now that you can get around, you really try very hard to play with him. He's not exactly keen on that idea, however, and it's led to some battles. Just today, you started to play with his garage and cars and he fuh-reaked out on you and you may or may not have been kicked in the head. He is having a hard time sharing, and will instead try to bring you some other toy to play with. But because you are so easy-going, you generally accept the substitute with a smile. You also get so excited in the morning when we go into his room, kicking your legs and laughing and trying to throw your little body at the door to get it open. He has been less rough with you as each month has gone by and he really does love you too. Just today when he got home from the park, he ran over to you and said, "Hi Emmie! Jack home from the park. Jack give Emmie a kiss!"



Every day I look at you and I think to myself, "I will remember her like this forever." And then the very next week, you already look different and I have forgotten that previous stage. I was looking back at some pictures of you this weekend from the previous months and I can't believe how much you have changed. You used to have chubby little baby cheeks at one point and now it's all dimples and cheekbones. Your little blonde hair is starting to darken up with the winter, and I think it might be a thing of the past soon. Your eyes are definitely settling into a nice shade of hazel, which proves to me I really was in the room when you were conceived! Finally, something that I can say looks like me, since you're clearly the spitting image of your father. Hopefully you will get my brains and good humor -- and humility -- as well. But whatever you end up looking like, I will always remember what a sweet, sweet little girl you were when you were 10 months old.

Love,
Mommy

Snot-nosed kid

Poor Emmie is sick again. Her nose had finally stopped running for a mere five days after her epic 21-day cold of last month and now it started again.

This time, however, I am fighting it with a humidifier and Vicks on the bottom of her feet. I read it really does work, so I am giving it a try.

Unfortunately, her cold also throws her sleep all to shit. Two nights ago, she woke up at 10 and would only be pacified by the boob. And even that didn't put her to sleep, it only calmed her down. Last night she woke at 9, same drill. Screamed hysterically, snot everywhere, until I finally brought her in my bed and fed her.

Can't wait to see what tonight has in store for us. Because I do so love being up multiple times per night 10 months into this.

Emmie: Nine months

Dear Emmie,

Today, kiddo, you have been outside of me as long as you had been inside of me. Looking at it from the other side, I can tell you the pregnancy sure seemed a lot shorter than this. You have grown and changed so much in nine months, although I guess going from a couple of cells to a complete human being in that same time frame isn't anything to sneeze at either.



This past month has been one of the busiest in terms of development. You learned to stand up at the furniture, crawl and pull yourself up on things. The last two, you performed for the first time within 15 minutes of each other, proving the theory that Mommy can indeed spontaneously combust into flames. I was not ready for the motion part of this picture, and was hoping you would be content to sit and play with your toys for another two years. But you were ready and there was no stopping you. One afternoon you just decided you wanted to play with your piano, which was about two feet away, and you went for it. I cheered for you and clapped and made huge deal about it and you looked up at me as if to say, "What's all the fuss? It's just a piano."

But now that you know how to crawl, you realize that your mobility is somewhat limited. You want to go go go, now now now, faster faster faster. Now that you can crawl, you also want to walk. You're not content to hang out on the floor playing anymore, now you want someone to hold you upright so you can stand. Then you get tired of that and try to squirm away, where you would fall flat on your face if we actually let you twist your arms out of our grasps. It's a furstrating time for you, but this too shall pass.



These frustrations have manifested themselves in a high-pitched screech that only dogs can hear half the time. If you get pissed or don't like what we are forcing you to do -- you know, things like play with a toy you have tired of or spend 1.2 seconds longer in your exersaucer than you deem acceptable, terrible things like that -- you let out this blood-curdling screech that makes me jump out of my skin. It certainly gets my attention, since you used to be such an easygoing baby, and I usually jump to right whatever wrong you feel you are suffering. Which has set a great example for your brother, who has also started screeching to get attention. So thanks for that. Hopefully this phase will end soon and you will go back to your compliant little self.

Your independence has also extended to your diet. You can now feed yourself Cheerios, which you will happily do for several minutes, allowing us time to eat at restaurants without having to hold you or entertain you. But so far, it's the only finger food you have mastered, partly because you only learned to feed yourself about a week ago and partly because I am lazy and haven't given you anything else. You're still quite happy being fed baby food, although we're started to give you purees that are a little chunkier and with more flavors in the hopes of getting you ready to transition to table food in the next few months.



Breastfeeding has been a bit of a struggle these last few weeks. You've hit the age where everything is so interesting that you don't have time to slow down and eat. So you latch on, get in a quick snack for about five minutes, and then you're done. There's no coaxing you, no luring you back to the boob. Once you're done, you're done and if I try to convince you to eat a little more I am met with back-arching, red-faced, arm-waving, screaming displeasure. Which makes for a really pleasant bonding experience. But I know this is something that a lot of babies go through at this age and if you're not getting enough milk, you'll let me know. In the meantime, I offer it up as much as possible and humor you by letting you nurse once during the night. Of course it's this middle-of-the-night feeding that is always your best one because you're sleepy and there are no distractions. We only have three months to go, and I know we can weather this storm and get to my one-year goal. Like it or not, you're stuck with the boob.



You started sleeping through the night about three weeks ago, but I missed out on that fun because Daddy and I were away on vacation for a long weekend. You apparently took pity on Grandma and slept 12 straight hours for her. Of course when I came home, you discontinued that new trick and asked for more boob in the middle of the night. So while you don't sleep straight through, you are only waking up once and you are sleeping in your own crib for the whole night. Which is a pretty good breakthrough.



Now that you're mobile, Jack is starting to realize you are a force to be reckoned with. You can get to his toys, and he's not all that excited about sharing. So in his role as Arbitor of Toy Distribution, he will take something of his from your hands and replace it with something he wants you to play with instead. Usually something boring like a stuffed animal. Now I can't really fault him for replacing a toy, but I tell him he has to learn to share and let you play with the fun toys too. You're also able to follow him around the room now, which is freaking him out. But just this week, he was reading a book and you crawled over to see what he was doing and he "read" you the book. You patted the book and his leg and smiled and it was so nice to see the two of you playing together. I can't wait to see more moments like this. It's just like when the two of you are sitting in the dining room together while I get dinner ready and you make each other laugh. I watch the two of you and realize how awesome it is that you have each other.



Now that your personality is coming out, I am really enjoying hanging out with you. You like to cuddle and touch my face and now when I say "kisses" to you, you smile and lean in and lay a huge open-mouth baby kiss on me. When I go in to get you from your crib, you get a huge smile on your little face and reach your arms up while trying to kick a hole in your mattress because you are so excited. But there is still no one quite like Daddy in your eyes. You wave to him and flap your arms in excitement when you see him. You lunge for him when he enters a room and you always smile biggest for him. Your first word was "dada" and you often say "hi dada" when he's around. While I would like to hear some "mama" sometime soon, I am being patient because you have something different for me. When you see me come into a room, you make a noise that defies description. It's kind of like a whiny grunt. But you only make it when someone else is holding you and you see me. Once I pick you up, you calm down immediately. I'm so glad just being in my arms can make you feel better. I hope someday when you're older you will still feel like that. If someone makes fun of you at school or you fall down and skin your knee or you stick your foot in your mouth saying something stupid (not that I would know anything about how that feels) or you have a bad hair day, I hope a hug from Mommy can make it all better.

Love,
Mommy

He said, she said

Last night I had book club, so Josh was in charge of the children and bathtime and bedtimes. As I was running out the door with my book and bottle of wine in hand, I reminded him to thaw out a bag of milk for Emmie. I had fed her around 7 p.m., so I figured she would be squawking for food again before I got back.

When I arrived home at 10:45 p.m., she had not yet woken up. Josh had already thawed the milk out, so I told him to just give her a bottle when she woke up because it's only good for 24 hours after it's thawed. He argued that he was going downstairs to paint (yes, the remodeling is STILL ongoing) and that I should just give it to her myself.

I don't give her bottles because I don't want her to get confused by the boob in such close proximity, so I told him he was going to do it, by God, and I retreated upstairs. I may or may not have included the phrase "Just do it. You're freaking killing me." Because I am mature like that.

I went to bed and thought I heard her fuss for a few minutes around midnight and then stop. I smugly went back to sleep because HA, I had won. When she woke up at 3 a.m., I brought her into bed and fed her and all was well.

This morning, I asked Josh what exact time he had given her the bottle. He looked at me like I had a squirrel perched on my head and asked what time I gave her the bottle. I said I didn't give her anything except the boob at 3 a.m.

Sure as shit, there in the fridge was the bottle of milk. Meaning, my daughter slept from 8:30 p.m. to 3 a.m. -- an unprecedented six-and-a-half hours.

Sweet jesus, she slept almost through the night and I didn't even realize it was happening.

Cereal killer

With her six-month birthday behind us, I decided today it was probably time to get some solids into Emmie. So I busted out the baby spoons and the oatmeal and mixed a little breastmilk in and had Josh get the camera out.



Emmie was totally into it, grabbing the spoon and trying to see what exactly I was doing with this lumpy breastmilk. And then she realized it was breastmilk, but with shit in it. The look on her face was priceless -- she was like "Mmmmmm ... wait, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT MOM?"

But then she started grooving on it and while she got more on her than in her, it went quite well.



To be honest, I held off on solids as long as I did out of pure laziness. It's so much easier to whip out the boob wherever I am and not worry about bringing food or dishes or any of the various accoutrements of a gourmet baby meal. But I happened to have some oatmeal and some breastmilk in the fridge and I secretly hoped that cereal would help her sleep through the night, so I went for it today.

Guess what -- after taking a 4-ounce bottle of pumped milk before bed, she woke a whopping two hours later. And now she's awake again, an hour after that. So much for the theory that a full tummy makes them sleep better. Whoever started that old wive's tale is now my sworn enemy.

Flip flop

We officially have a stomach-sleeper at 5.5 months.

For the last two nights, Emmie has flipped herself onto her stomach and slept like that for several hours. I know all the blah blah about "back to sleep" but once the kid can turn herself over, all bets are off.

The first time I discovered her sleeping with her face in the crib mattress, I about had a heart attack. But then I looked closely and noticed her face was actually turned to the side and she had a clear airway. So I left her alone, smugly thinking this would be the magic bullet for sleeping through the night.

Of course she made a fool out of me when she woke up two hours later. And two hours after that. And two hours after that. I waved the white flag and brought her in my bed around 2 a.m. and stopped counting how many times she woke me up.

What I haven't stopped counting is the number of times Jack has accidents with the potty training. I am proud to report he didn't have any accidents at all yesterday and had a small one today where he actually realized he was peeing, stopped himself and went into the bathroom to finish -- all on his own. He's even emptying his own potty insert into the big toilet. This Mommy gig is looking up!

I am now only asking him if he has to go once an hour and he is telling me or just going on his own a couple times a day. I know we're by no means done, but I am feeling pretty good about his progress considering he's 2 years 4 months.

Next on the agenda is teaching him how to make the perfect margarita.

Emmie: Five months

Dear Emmie,

Can it really be five months already? Didn't I just write your four-month letter, like last week? Are you trying to grow up in fast-forward or is it just me?



Perhaps I just can't remember the last month because I am so tired that it all blended into one long sleepless night. You see, my little wide-eyed wonder, you came home from the hospital loving your sleep and you have slowly evolved into a non-sleeper. You go down for the night somewhere in the neighborhood of 8 p.m., after taking close to an hour to really fall asleep, and you wake up approximately five times between then and 7 a.m. If I didn't let you sleep next to me in my bed, I would truly be a walking zombie. We've taken to letting you sleep in your swing for naps and sometimes even at night; it does the trick and we can get a chart-breaking three uninterrupted hours out of you. But hey, looking on the bright side, all this night-waking is great for the milk supply!



I keep thinking maybe there is some magic bullet for sleep, but I know there's not. You'll do it when you're ready. And when you wake up (at 11, 1, 3, 5 and 7 -- not that I'm keeping track or anything) you truly do want to eat every time. The pacifier doesn't pacify you and you want the boob. So clearly, the breastfeeding is still going well. You are satisfied with it and I decided to hold off with the solids until next month. You've hit a cute stage where you pat me and pull on my shirt and play with my bra strap while you are eating, that is, when you're not pulling off and laying a huge grin on me. Although in the middle of the night, you're all business. You peck at me like a bird until I offer it up and then you just lunge for me and latch yourself on with reckless abandon.

Your new favorite thing to do the last few weeks is crunches. You refuse to lie quietly on the floor now, instead you raise your head and shoulders clear off the rug and also lift your little legs so you're in a V-shape. Then you throw yourself on your side for a minute, then roll back and and start it all again. Sometimes you like to roll over onto your tummy, just for kicks. You've mastered the rolling from tummy to back and you've just starting to go the other way a few times here and there.



I think you and your brother have hit a new level in your relationship this month. Now that you are more interactive, he gets so excited to give you toys and have you hold them or shake them. He wakes up in the morning and always asks, "Emmie? Awake?" and now when he sees you, he says, "Hi Ahhhh-mee!" You of course, adore him. Probably even more now that he's stopped smacking you every chance he gets. Your eyes never leave him when he's in the room and now you smile and coo at him, too.



Your smiles aren't just reserved for your brother though. You literally kick your legs and pump your little arms and actually laugh when you wake up and I come in to get you. But as awesome as your reaction is to me, it's nothing compared to the show you put on for Daddy. Your smiles are the biggest for him and you just adore him. You truly are a daddy's girl these days. Your smile is a whole-body affair, complete with a little shoulder raise that makes it almost look like you're trying to be coy. But you really do light up the room when you are in it.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention your current hairstyle. All the "celebabies" are going to be sporting it in US Weekly this fall. Your blonde fuzz is about three inches long and it sticks straight up from the entire top of your head. No matter how much I try to comb it down, it just pops right back up, so we go with it and it's your signature look now. I know in a few weeks it will probably be too long to stick up and I really will miss it when it's gone.



Your hair is like everything else at this age -- we think it's how it will be forever, and then in the blink of an eye, it changes. Today I was pushing you in a swing at the park and I realized in no time at all, you won't want me to push and you'll be telling me "Emmie do! Emmie do!" But for now, you're content to have me be the center of your world and I am happy to oblige you. You bring such joy to my days -- how can I possibly be upset about something when I see you laugh at your little pink baby, grab her and try to eat her face? Or when you try to shove your entire fist into your mouth and pretty much succeed in doing it? Or when you're sleeping on my lap during your afternoon nap with your little hand pressed against your face, sighing?



There are moments in my day where my love for you just spills over. Not in the overprotective stage-mother kind of way, but I just look down at you and kiss your cute little face and tell you I love you. I can't get enough of you and I am always so excited to see you after I have been gone. Your Daddy and I went to New York for the weekend a few weeks ago and when our plane landed, I could not have been more excited to see you and your brother because I knew your little smile would greet me and make me feel like the luckiest woman on earth. I hope someday you get to experience this kind of love with children of your own, because there is nothing like it in the world.

Love,
Mommy

There's early, and then there's EARLY

You wanna know where Emmie is right now (8:45 p.m.)? Sleeping. You wanna know what time she fell asleep? 5:25 p.m.

Yes, you read that right. I thought she was just taking a late nap and she decided to go down for the count.

This surely means she'll be awake at 5 a.m. and I will be a walking zombie.

I know, I know. They say sleep begets sleep and she might actually sleep longer with all this restfulness in her system. But I also know these things tend to bite me in the ass.

All you can eat

Emmie woke and ate at 1:30, 4, 5, 6, 6:30, 7, 7:30 and 8 this morning. Please shoot me.

It's probably my own fault. She starts the night in her crib and stays there until 1 a.m. -- sometimes it's a little earlier, sometimes as late as 2 a.m. But once she wakes for the first time, I bring her in bed with me and let her stay there until morning.

Every time she wakes up, I silence her with the almighty boob. This setup allows the maximum rest for me, as I just feed her and fall back asleep doing it. But the wakeups and subsequent feedings are getting a little ridiculous. My sleep is fragmented, so it's not quality sleep and something needs to change.

While I could probably stand to get her sleeping in her own crib, the thought of walking in and out of her room multiple times a night, getting her fed and settled and then trying to get myself back to sleep makes me ill. Especially since Jack really doesn't care how much sleep I have gotten -- he just wants to go go go all day.

It could be a growth spurt, but I doubt it as she's not eating any more than she usually does during the day. And I've heard of reverse cycling, where breastfed babies eat more at night because mom works during the day. But she's home with me 24-7 and fed on demand, so I don't know why that would happen.

Apparently she just wants a little action at the Open All Night Breastaurant.

Playing cribbage

Tonight was the first night we put Emmie to sleep in her crib. I am not sure why this seems like such a big deal, or why it merits its own blog post, but apparently it does. I remember being so sad when we transferred Jack to his crib in his own room, but now I know better and I forsee a baby sleeping next to me in my bed in about four hours.

You see, I am guilty of being a part-time cosleeper. And it's not because I am pro-family bed or a believer in cosleeping reducing SIDS or anything like that. It's simply because I am too damn lazy to get up, walk down the hall to Emmie's room, carry her to our room to change her diaper and nurse her in the glider and then carry her back to her own room and swaddle her up and get her re-settled in her crib.

For my selfish purposes, it's simply easier to grab her out of her crib and bring her in our bed to nurse her and let her sleep next to me, popping on and off the boob for the rest of the night. I do like my sleep and it seems I get more when I do it the lazy way. Also, her wailing when I change her wakes Josh up and reminds him why we need to convert this house to a single-family dwelling, pronto.

You might ask why I would have to do all that back and forth business in the middle of the night and the answer would be because Emmie's room is still the guest room for the near future. (See: converting to a single-family dwelling). Because a crib and a bed are all that fit in the small space that is our nursery, the changing table and glider live in our room. So poor Emmie really doesn't have a nursery right now. Just another way the second kind gets the short end isn't it?

Hopefully we can rectify this situation in June. We're planning to take over the lower level of the house, which will give us a rec room and another full bathroom and a guestroom, which means we can move the guest bed out of Emmie's room and into the official guest room downstairs. And that means no more middle-of-the-night stumbling around hither and yon for changing and rocking.

In the meantime, we squish four people and 2,784 acres of toys into the space we have. And if you were thinking about staying with us any time soon, I hope you like your sleep fractured by a whimpering baby two feet from your head. If you are lactating, would you mind just whipping out of the boob for a quick feed? Thanks much.

Crap nap wrap

Oh my holy hell. For the first time in two years Jack did not take a nap today. Instead, he sat in his crib and talked and sang. For two hours. Without sleeping. Did I mention there was no sleeping?

I went up there a few times to tell him to Go. To. Sleep. And I changed a poopy diaper. But he refused to relent to the sandman.

The Gods of Stay At Home Motherdom shined upon me, however, because Josh was working from home this afternoon and Grandma was here, so I was able to escape and let her deal with the no-nap boy.

I left for a jaunt downtown to pick up Emmie's birth certificate at the 90-minute mark with instructions to get him up at two hours if there was no improvement. When I came home, there he was, sitting on the couch like it was a regular old afternoon.

By the end of dinner, he was showing the signs of impending meltdown. He threw himself on the floor at the restaurant as we were leaving because he wanted to put his coat on while standing on the floor instead of standing on the high chair, like he usually does. We were lucky to escape with our lives in that one.

After we got home there was a quick bath and he had a vacant look on his face as I read him "Goodnight Moon" and that ended the day. He was awake for 12 hours before he crashed hard, almost immediately after we put him to bed. And that never happens.

This is SO not allowed. Mommy needs nap time for things like eating lunch and blogging and you know, sanity. Jack needs nap time for things like growing brain cells. Not taking a nap is not an option in this house. Especially not with two children.

What might piss me off more than the actual act of not napping is the idea of not napping. Like I was this smug little mother, secure in the fact my child sleeps well. He goes to bed at 8:30 p.m. and he sleeps until 8:30 a.m. and he takes a two-hour, sometimes three-hour, nap. I haven't had sleep issues with this kid in forever. So of course it came back to bite me in the ass. Rule No. 1 of parenting: just when you're feeling smug, you will get the smackdown.

I am pretending this didn't happen and it's an anomoly. Repeat after me: there will be more naps, there will be more naps, there will be more naps.

I hate you daylight savings

Dear Daylight Savings Time,

I hate you.

It's not me, it's you. There is no way we can work this out. I'm so over you.

Sincerely,
Amy

**************************

I abhor this clock-switching business. Last spring, I was so smug. Ha! The clocks are springing ahead! My child will be fooled and will sleep until 8 a.m. and I will sleep the sleep of queens and the princess and the pea!

Oh but no. He woke up at the same damn time, not even acknowledging the fact the clocks had switched. I felt cheated. It was such a letdown.

Of course this time around, I knew it would be even worse since we were setting the clocks back an hour.

Last night we put the Jackster to bed at 8 p.m. That's a full hour later than normal. He had also taken a much later nap because of some problem falling asleep, so we were thinking maybe we beat the system.

You know what time I heard the crib soother this morning? That would be 5-it's-way-too-freaking-early a.m. I listened to babbling and singing a short bursts of silence until 7 a.m., when I finally dragged my ass out of bed and staggered into his room.

Because I am an idiot and realized a half-hour before lunchtime today that I needed to make a Whole Foods run, his nap was an hour later than normal, but with the time change it was really two hours later and oh my holy hell, all this thinking about what time it is and what time it would have been yesterday makes my head hurt.

Also, it is making me have Braxton Hicks contractions. Well, not entirely true. It's not all the thinking, it's the lack of water I would imagine. So I shall go lie down now and drink some water and think about how great it will be in a week when everyone forgets what time it could be and instead just thinks about what time it actually is.