When we moved into our home 3 years ago, I was hell bent on putting down roots.
Immediately.
Coming from a townhouse environment where the woman we shared a wall with wouldn’t even look up at me when I walked within feet of her, I wanted to know all our neighbors. I wanted to be friends. I wanted to love them and them us. (Three years later I am confident that the plan worked.)
A little over 30 days after we moved in we threw a party. That is the great thing about December, you can get away with things like that. We scrambled to clean and paint and organize. We spent hundreds of dollars on food and drink. We had fancy invitations printed. We went door-to-door and introduced ourselves to neighbors, personally handing out the invtes. We had the audacity to declare this an annual event.
This year should have been the 4th Annual. Notice the word should? Apparently a few of our friends have the 1st Saturday in December permanently marked on their calendar as our party day.
I went so far as to create the invitations, I just never hit the purchase button. This post wasn’t so long ago. It still stands in full effect. I am tired. Matt is tired. I just couldn’t comprehend spending the day cleaning and cooking and fretting and then cleaning all over again.
So no ‘Annual’ this year. I am sad, but relieved. Instead we decided to take this weekend for ourselves and head down to Colonial Williamsburg for the Grand Illumination. We are counting on fresh air and time away from our everyday to reset everyone’s clock.
But my big question is, next year are we still allowed to call our Christmas party ‘Annual’? And then do we skip right over 4 like it took place, so do we have to reuse this number because it is the 4th party in 5 years now?
Showing posts with label Sleep Depervation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sleep Depervation. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Terribles
It has been over 10 days since I last posted. For this I apologize. There have been many stories and moments worthy of note. I start writing the post in my head with little sticky notes on my memory and then .... nothing.
Nothing.
I am tired. I am now 16 weeks pregnant and not getting the 12 hours of sleep a day my body is demanding. So there is nothing. I instead have been choosing to live in the moments and forget them as soon as possible. Sure, they would make great vignettes of our lives and funny to the outsider and even to us in the future, but right now the stories are: terrible.
We have hit the terribles. I always assumed that stories of the dreaded terrible two's were exaggerations or examples of why Matt and I were in fact good parents, because the terribles weren't happening to us.
Sure, that is a little arrogant; especially given that Gracie is only 2 years and 1 month old now. But she's always been relatively mellow. Below the curve in emotional melt downs and above the curve in rational thought.
But now: SHE IS TWO. TWO DAMMIT. AND WE AREN'T GOING TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM HER!
(At least that is what I imagine she is screaming in her head during the temper tantrums.)
Oh, and the temper tantrums!
~They are because she wants to get dressed, but how dare you take off my pajamas!
~They are because she took off her own pajamas, but how dare you put clothes on me!
~They are because she pooped, but how dare you change my diaper!
~They are because she is hungry, but how dare you put food in front of me!
~They are because she is exhausted from all the tantrums, but how dare you expect me to take a nap!
What is the point of this post again? Oh yeah, I'm tired. Matt is tired. There were way more tears this weekend than smiles. And I will try to get back to capturing the tears for future enjoyment.
Nothing.
I am tired. I am now 16 weeks pregnant and not getting the 12 hours of sleep a day my body is demanding. So there is nothing. I instead have been choosing to live in the moments and forget them as soon as possible. Sure, they would make great vignettes of our lives and funny to the outsider and even to us in the future, but right now the stories are: terrible.
We have hit the terribles. I always assumed that stories of the dreaded terrible two's were exaggerations or examples of why Matt and I were in fact good parents, because the terribles weren't happening to us.
Sure, that is a little arrogant; especially given that Gracie is only 2 years and 1 month old now. But she's always been relatively mellow. Below the curve in emotional melt downs and above the curve in rational thought.
But now: SHE IS TWO. TWO DAMMIT. AND WE AREN'T GOING TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM HER!
(At least that is what I imagine she is screaming in her head during the temper tantrums.)
Oh, and the temper tantrums!
~They are because she wants to get dressed, but how dare you take off my pajamas!
~They are because she took off her own pajamas, but how dare you put clothes on me!
~They are because she pooped, but how dare you change my diaper!
~They are because she is hungry, but how dare you put food in front of me!
~They are because she is exhausted from all the tantrums, but how dare you expect me to take a nap!
What is the point of this post again? Oh yeah, I'm tired. Matt is tired. There were way more tears this weekend than smiles. And I will try to get back to capturing the tears for future enjoyment.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Big Dot
We are having sleep issues again.
Not me, I could sleep for days right now. Not Matt, for once he seems to be able to make it though the night, although the Nyquil he is taking of his cold could have something to do with that.
So that only leaves one person left. It’s moved beyond occasional and into pattern that she wakes at the stroke of midnight and wants to sleep with one of us.
When we found out I was pregnant we bought a new bedroom set for Gracie so she can have an upgraded big girl room.
This past weekend I bought bedding that she loves. She’s been dragging the comforter all over the first floor and snuggling. She counts the many dots. She exclaims the colors of the rainbow. She demands she is the only one who can touch it, and then quickly retracts her demand with requests to lay on the floor with her.
Given all this, this weekend we start the transition. No, the room isn’t painted to go with the rainbow of dots yet, but yes I think she is ready to move from the crib to a toddler bed.
Wish us luck.
Not me, I could sleep for days right now. Not Matt, for once he seems to be able to make it though the night, although the Nyquil he is taking of his cold could have something to do with that.
So that only leaves one person left. It’s moved beyond occasional and into pattern that she wakes at the stroke of midnight and wants to sleep with one of us.
When we found out I was pregnant we bought a new bedroom set for Gracie so she can have an upgraded big girl room.
This past weekend I bought bedding that she loves. She’s been dragging the comforter all over the first floor and snuggling. She counts the many dots. She exclaims the colors of the rainbow. She demands she is the only one who can touch it, and then quickly retracts her demand with requests to lay on the floor with her.
Given all this, this weekend we start the transition. No, the room isn’t painted to go with the rainbow of dots yet, but yes I think she is ready to move from the crib to a toddler bed.
Wish us luck.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tuesday Morning Blues
So you know back here, when I talked about Gracie not sleeping (and Matt yelled at me for making public threats against our daughter on my blog, not that anyone else would know about that... and besides, I was only kind of serious.)
Well, she's still not sleeping. It's only been a week, but it has been a hellish week. I take that back, it's been on and off for more than a month, but it's only been every night for the hellish week.
At first we kept chalking up the sleeplessness to teething. Remember this chart? I actually refer back to it often and it is probable that she's getting her back molars, which by all accounts, is painful. Shouldn't they have already come in though? How long can you blame bad sleep on teeth?
So last night we drew our line in the sand. Back to basics. We cannot be a co-sleeping family. I take up 2/3 of the bed and Matt is a very, very light sleeper. Every movement, every noise wakes him up and Gracie makes circles like Curley from the Three Stooges when she sleeps. We had to put an end to this, so we decided it's time for Night One of Operation Cry It Out.
According to Matt, the initial screaming only lasted 25 minutes. It makes sense, that is how long Gracie always took as an infant. Even then it was gut wrenching, but we knew at exactly minute 25 the exhaustion would give out. It did this time too, but there is a major difference between the screams of a pissed off 11 month old and a pissed offer 21 month old.
At 11 months old you are filled with self doubt. As a parent you question whether your doing the right thing. The cries are shrill and wild and a little bit fearful. At 21 months, we are confident that we are dong the right thing and Gracie knows exactly what she is doing too. We had previously stopped letting her cry it out because it would inevitably lead to barf. There was no vomit last night, just anger and confusion and all the air in the room being redirected through her lungs.
After awhile Matt went into her room, but following the guidelines never took her out of the crib. After the initial bellow, they came like reverse contractions. 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 2 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 4 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 6 minutes....
He laid on the floor near her until she finally fell asleep. He is a much stronger parent than I am. I would have cracked in the initial 25 if I had gotten out of bed. It is said that it takes 5 to 7 days to change sleep patterns. One down, hopefully not many more to go.
Well, she's still not sleeping. It's only been a week, but it has been a hellish week. I take that back, it's been on and off for more than a month, but it's only been every night for the hellish week.
At first we kept chalking up the sleeplessness to teething. Remember this chart? I actually refer back to it often and it is probable that she's getting her back molars, which by all accounts, is painful. Shouldn't they have already come in though? How long can you blame bad sleep on teeth?
So last night we drew our line in the sand. Back to basics. We cannot be a co-sleeping family. I take up 2/3 of the bed and Matt is a very, very light sleeper. Every movement, every noise wakes him up and Gracie makes circles like Curley from the Three Stooges when she sleeps. We had to put an end to this, so we decided it's time for Night One of Operation Cry It Out.
According to Matt, the initial screaming only lasted 25 minutes. It makes sense, that is how long Gracie always took as an infant. Even then it was gut wrenching, but we knew at exactly minute 25 the exhaustion would give out. It did this time too, but there is a major difference between the screams of a pissed off 11 month old and a pissed offer 21 month old.
At 11 months old you are filled with self doubt. As a parent you question whether your doing the right thing. The cries are shrill and wild and a little bit fearful. At 21 months, we are confident that we are dong the right thing and Gracie knows exactly what she is doing too. We had previously stopped letting her cry it out because it would inevitably lead to barf. There was no vomit last night, just anger and confusion and all the air in the room being redirected through her lungs.
After awhile Matt went into her room, but following the guidelines never took her out of the crib. After the initial bellow, they came like reverse contractions. 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 2 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 4 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 6 minutes....
He laid on the floor near her until she finally fell asleep. He is a much stronger parent than I am. I would have cracked in the initial 25 if I had gotten out of bed. It is said that it takes 5 to 7 days to change sleep patterns. One down, hopefully not many more to go.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Payback
Gracie is on a sleep strike, by which, we become her cohorts. By WE I totally mean Matt, but I am getting dragged into this too. Not a fan.
I think Grace really was listening when I told her she could have anything she wanted during my pangs of bad parenting guilt. She’s 21 months old. She has no use for designer jeans or access to the car, so has decided to reap her reward in the form of all night parties where if she is not touching one of us, flesh to flesh, she instantly awakens.
Last night was day two of this. I, for the most part, slept through day one. Matt however got maybe three hours of sleep Monday night. Last night, the games started at 10:30 pm. My shift lasted until 1am, and then Matt took over. Again. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew I should have insisted that he go back to bed, but I was so bleary eyed. He took her into the spare room for four hours of kicks to the chest and I barely made it back to our bed.
While four hours of sleep sounds OK to most people, for me it’s not. I need eight. NEED. And Matt was withered after Monday’s go-round; I can’t imagine how his brain is functioning right now on day two. After a year of knowing your kid can sleep though the night, the fact that you did this and more during the newborn stages no longer matters. She needed us then. She couldn’t make it though the night, so it was alright.
Now, these games are no longer acceptable. This is me putting you on notice Gracie. You will sleep though the night tonight. With help from outside sources if that’s what it takes.
I think Grace really was listening when I told her she could have anything she wanted during my pangs of bad parenting guilt. She’s 21 months old. She has no use for designer jeans or access to the car, so has decided to reap her reward in the form of all night parties where if she is not touching one of us, flesh to flesh, she instantly awakens.
Last night was day two of this. I, for the most part, slept through day one. Matt however got maybe three hours of sleep Monday night. Last night, the games started at 10:30 pm. My shift lasted until 1am, and then Matt took over. Again. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew I should have insisted that he go back to bed, but I was so bleary eyed. He took her into the spare room for four hours of kicks to the chest and I barely made it back to our bed.
While four hours of sleep sounds OK to most people, for me it’s not. I need eight. NEED. And Matt was withered after Monday’s go-round; I can’t imagine how his brain is functioning right now on day two. After a year of knowing your kid can sleep though the night, the fact that you did this and more during the newborn stages no longer matters. She needed us then. She couldn’t make it though the night, so it was alright.
Now, these games are no longer acceptable. This is me putting you on notice Gracie. You will sleep though the night tonight. With help from outside sources if that’s what it takes.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Beginning
I felt wise this morning, which doesn't happen all that often. Smart, well smart enough to get through the day unscathed is standard, but wise is rare.
My friend David and his wife just had their first child.
As cubicle neighbors, he spent a lot of time asking overwhelmed, not sure what to expect, first time daddy questions to me. I also spent a lot of time listening to his quasi-private conversations about the baby with his wife. (Because really, if we normally talk through a half wall he must have full knowledge that I can hear every word spoken when its not directed towards me. And frankly the conversations are more interesting than the work infront of me.)
The baby was born last Monday, three weeks early. I knew they weren't prepared. I didn't know that the baby shower had been the day before, but I knew HE wasn't prepared.
Today is David's first day back and he stopped by to show me pictures first thing. His little girl is beautiful. We all look forward to welcoming her into the folds of our little daycare community.
This is where the wisdom comes from.
The ability to look at the red bleary eyes and understand. Truly understand as someone who is not so far removed from those days themselves can only understand. To be able to offer sage advice as someone who has been there and done that. To assure him that taking a nap at your desk on your first day back is perfectly OK.
While in the end I can offer little useful advice since everyone has to feel their way out of the darkness themselves, I can offer my wisdom. My silence. My knowing smile. My friendship.
Congratulations David and welcome Anna.
My friend David and his wife just had their first child.
As cubicle neighbors, he spent a lot of time asking overwhelmed, not sure what to expect, first time daddy questions to me. I also spent a lot of time listening to his quasi-private conversations about the baby with his wife. (Because really, if we normally talk through a half wall he must have full knowledge that I can hear every word spoken when its not directed towards me. And frankly the conversations are more interesting than the work infront of me.)
The baby was born last Monday, three weeks early. I knew they weren't prepared. I didn't know that the baby shower had been the day before, but I knew HE wasn't prepared.
Today is David's first day back and he stopped by to show me pictures first thing. His little girl is beautiful. We all look forward to welcoming her into the folds of our little daycare community.
This is where the wisdom comes from.
The ability to look at the red bleary eyes and understand. Truly understand as someone who is not so far removed from those days themselves can only understand. To be able to offer sage advice as someone who has been there and done that. To assure him that taking a nap at your desk on your first day back is perfectly OK.
While in the end I can offer little useful advice since everyone has to feel their way out of the darkness themselves, I can offer my wisdom. My silence. My knowing smile. My friendship.
Congratulations David and welcome Anna.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The *Smack* Down
Last Monday is was freezing with a half foot of snow falling onto the ground.
This Monday I ate lunch outside without a coat.
70 degree weather is a fickle friend. It embraces you with a warm hug and kiss, and then*smack*, knocks you upside the head with the price of that warm hug.
The price? Illness.
I should have known better. Sure, it is one thing for ME to run around outside with a short sleeve shirt and no coat. It is a whole other thing to have Grace run around outside sans coat, sleeves and shoes.
So again - the price? Illness.
Monday morning Grace woke up SCREAMING. At 2:30 am. And REFUSED to go back to sleep. I should have known something was wrong right then and there.
Then I got reports of Gracie throwing up her lunch at daycare. The teachers said they thought she had just choked on some beans though, so not to worry about it. She was just really tired. She had to be woken up after 3 hours of naptime with everyone else playing around her. At dinner time - at the opportune moment after she donned a bib, but before her food was placed infront of her - she yacked again.
Great. Now this is something to worry about.
This was followed with a fever and runny nose, which has now morphed into a higher fever and snot encrusted face this morning.
Oh, and did I mention that I am taking Grace back to Chicago with me on Saturday? To a parade with a predicted high temperature of 45 degrees? That is so not 70 degrees her body (and mine) is now expecting.
Damn weather. *smack*
This Monday I ate lunch outside without a coat.
70 degree weather is a fickle friend. It embraces you with a warm hug and kiss, and then*smack*, knocks you upside the head with the price of that warm hug.
The price? Illness.
I should have known better. Sure, it is one thing for ME to run around outside with a short sleeve shirt and no coat. It is a whole other thing to have Grace run around outside sans coat, sleeves and shoes.
So again - the price? Illness.
Monday morning Grace woke up SCREAMING. At 2:30 am. And REFUSED to go back to sleep. I should have known something was wrong right then and there.
Then I got reports of Gracie throwing up her lunch at daycare. The teachers said they thought she had just choked on some beans though, so not to worry about it. She was just really tired. She had to be woken up after 3 hours of naptime with everyone else playing around her. At dinner time - at the opportune moment after she donned a bib, but before her food was placed infront of her - she yacked again.
Great. Now this is something to worry about.
This was followed with a fever and runny nose, which has now morphed into a higher fever and snot encrusted face this morning.
Oh, and did I mention that I am taking Grace back to Chicago with me on Saturday? To a parade with a predicted high temperature of 45 degrees? That is so not 70 degrees her body (and mine) is now expecting.
Damn weather. *smack*
Thursday, January 29, 2009
#11 is Evil
Tooth #11 is here, and it had a really mean streak.
Its arrival has meant multiple screaming sessions in the middle of the night for the last week. Its arrival has meant that when Gracie does finally fall asleep in my arms after rocking her for 45 minutes, it is NOT OK to put her back in her crib. Its arrival has meant that there is just general all day crankiness in the house.
I am blaming the tooth, not Grace’s approach to the 1.5 year mark that I’ve heard terrible things about, on her sudden need to be clingy also.
We stayed home from work yesterday because there was an ice storm. Let’s be honest, I stayed home from work because I could. Sure the roads were crappy, but I would have been fine. I am from Chicago after all. I just didn’t want to deal, so we stayed home.
Big mistake.
She spent the majority of her day pulling on my pants, screaming to be picked up or screaming to be put down – then repeat.
Yesterday made me question my dedication to being a good parent. Yesterday, I wanted to stick Grace in the basement and take a long, LOUD bath with a HUGE glass of wine at 10 am.
Instead, I started medicating. Rounds of hippie, homeopathic, chamomile-herb teething drops and Tylenol. I have no idea which one worked, but it was the first time in forever that she’s slept through the night.
Lots of parent’s seem to not believe in such things – well the Tylenol part of it anyway. I on the other hand, figure if I would take it myself, why wouldn’t I give it to Grace? In fact, it is one more thing that I love about Dr. H. His philosophy is that you can’t do your job as a parent if your not sane, so do whatever your comfortable with to stay sane.
So far, this morning is all smiles and sunshine. If the clouds start to roll in, at least I have a few more hours before it becomes my problem again.
Its arrival has meant multiple screaming sessions in the middle of the night for the last week. Its arrival has meant that when Gracie does finally fall asleep in my arms after rocking her for 45 minutes, it is NOT OK to put her back in her crib. Its arrival has meant that there is just general all day crankiness in the house.
I am blaming the tooth, not Grace’s approach to the 1.5 year mark that I’ve heard terrible things about, on her sudden need to be clingy also.
We stayed home from work yesterday because there was an ice storm. Let’s be honest, I stayed home from work because I could. Sure the roads were crappy, but I would have been fine. I am from Chicago after all. I just didn’t want to deal, so we stayed home.
Big mistake.
She spent the majority of her day pulling on my pants, screaming to be picked up or screaming to be put down – then repeat.
Yesterday made me question my dedication to being a good parent. Yesterday, I wanted to stick Grace in the basement and take a long, LOUD bath with a HUGE glass of wine at 10 am.
Instead, I started medicating. Rounds of hippie, homeopathic, chamomile-herb teething drops and Tylenol. I have no idea which one worked, but it was the first time in forever that she’s slept through the night.
Lots of parent’s seem to not believe in such things – well the Tylenol part of it anyway. I on the other hand, figure if I would take it myself, why wouldn’t I give it to Grace? In fact, it is one more thing that I love about Dr. H. His philosophy is that you can’t do your job as a parent if your not sane, so do whatever your comfortable with to stay sane.
So far, this morning is all smiles and sunshine. If the clouds start to roll in, at least I have a few more hours before it becomes my problem again.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Sweet Sleep
I’m a sleeper. I’ve always been a sleeper. 8 hours is OK. 10 is perfect. Anything less than 8 and I am a semi-zombie.
I’m lucky to get 6 now-a-days. I’m even luckier if the 6 are uninterrupted. That was not the case last night.
Gracie goes through phases where she wakes up for 2-4 nights in a row and will not go back to sleep for at least an hour. We are at the start of another stretch of this and I am so tired.
Combine this with the fact that I started a mind-numbingly boring rotation in another office at work today and you might have some idea of how my frontal lobe feels right now. Like mush.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
I sit in an office that is deathly quite, except for the sound of air vents blowing, lights humming and a desk top water fountain. The environment is quite conducive to sleep. However sleep at work, while trying to make good impressions in another office, is my nemesis right now.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
Then I am informed that I will be responding to customer correspondence, but they have already been addressed months ago. Great. So my task really isn’t even a task. It is just busy work with nobody really even caring about what I say in my fake letter to nobody.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
I am also really regretting my decision to only drink water this past weekend. I am now going on 60 hours without ANY form of caffeine coursing through my blood stream. During a break I dug the exact amount of change needed for a Diet Coke and the pop machine eats a quarter. So now I have no pop-less for another hour. I hate you Diet Coke machine!!
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
Eyes on the prize. Eyes on the prize. This is your marathon. Upon its completion you will get sun, surf a baby that is so warn out from the sun and surf that she will sleep 10 solid hours every night. Right?
I’m lucky to get 6 now-a-days. I’m even luckier if the 6 are uninterrupted. That was not the case last night.
Gracie goes through phases where she wakes up for 2-4 nights in a row and will not go back to sleep for at least an hour. We are at the start of another stretch of this and I am so tired.
Combine this with the fact that I started a mind-numbingly boring rotation in another office at work today and you might have some idea of how my frontal lobe feels right now. Like mush.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
I sit in an office that is deathly quite, except for the sound of air vents blowing, lights humming and a desk top water fountain. The environment is quite conducive to sleep. However sleep at work, while trying to make good impressions in another office, is my nemesis right now.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
Then I am informed that I will be responding to customer correspondence, but they have already been addressed months ago. Great. So my task really isn’t even a task. It is just busy work with nobody really even caring about what I say in my fake letter to nobody.
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
I am also really regretting my decision to only drink water this past weekend. I am now going on 60 hours without ANY form of caffeine coursing through my blood stream. During a break I dug the exact amount of change needed for a Diet Coke and the pop machine eats a quarter. So now I have no pop-less for another hour. I hate you Diet Coke machine!!
Must stay awake. Must stay awake.
Eyes on the prize. Eyes on the prize. This is your marathon. Upon its completion you will get sun, surf a baby that is so warn out from the sun and surf that she will sleep 10 solid hours every night. Right?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Careful What You Ask For
Restaurant Week – how I love thee.
I’ve been dreaming of the $20 3 course gourmet lunch I was supposed to have today for two weeks. When else can you justify going to over-hyped, over-priced celebrity restaurants?
I’ve been foiled though. By a teething 10 month old, my overly dedicated workaholic husband and frankly, myself.
In celebration of the bi-annual restaurant week price cuts and Matt’s last week at his downtown job, we made reservations for lunch.
(Oh, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard yet, Matt did get the super short commute-more money-less responsibility job he interviewed for a while back. He interviewed on a Wednesday and was informally offered the job that Friday. It didn’t become official though until two weeks ago. You know, those Human Resources folks have a lot going on with all the doughnut eating and water cooler talk. It takes a while to get these things co-ordinated.)
Anyway, we made these reservations with a semi-complicated plan to go along with them. I would be dropped off at work earlier than normal, take the shuttle bus downtown and walk 2 miles to the restaurant (my choice to help burn the decadent calories.) After, we would go back to Matt’s office, pick up the car, buy large amounts of Two Buck Chuck at Trader Joe's, drive back up to my work to pick up Grace and still be home before normal.
It was brilliant! How could the plan fail?
Well, the other side of her mouth – you know, the teeth I was anxious for to balance out her kisser – decided to do some movement last night. Maybe I am exaggerating, but I’m fairly certain she cried from 11pm-2am. Matt held her for a good portion of those hours.
We are all tired this morning. Well, Gracie seems fine, but did sleep in 45 minutes later than normal. Matt & I are tired. Exhausted. I refused to get out of bed. I had to take a picture this morning!
We slept in. Well, I slept in. Matt can never go back to sleep.
So now, we are running over an hour behind schedule. The amount of leave I need to take the afternoon off doubled and Matt realized that he needed more than 3 hours of time at the office.
Consider the afternoon canceled. I will pout all day and resent every bite of food eaten at lunch.
Next year. Next year is a long time away though. *Sniff*
I’ve been dreaming of the $20 3 course gourmet lunch I was supposed to have today for two weeks. When else can you justify going to over-hyped, over-priced celebrity restaurants?
I’ve been foiled though. By a teething 10 month old, my overly dedicated workaholic husband and frankly, myself.
In celebration of the bi-annual restaurant week price cuts and Matt’s last week at his downtown job, we made reservations for lunch.
(Oh, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard yet, Matt did get the super short commute-more money-less responsibility job he interviewed for a while back. He interviewed on a Wednesday and was informally offered the job that Friday. It didn’t become official though until two weeks ago. You know, those Human Resources folks have a lot going on with all the doughnut eating and water cooler talk. It takes a while to get these things co-ordinated.)
Anyway, we made these reservations with a semi-complicated plan to go along with them. I would be dropped off at work earlier than normal, take the shuttle bus downtown and walk 2 miles to the restaurant (my choice to help burn the decadent calories.) After, we would go back to Matt’s office, pick up the car, buy large amounts of Two Buck Chuck at Trader Joe's, drive back up to my work to pick up Grace and still be home before normal.
It was brilliant! How could the plan fail?
Well, the other side of her mouth – you know, the teeth I was anxious for to balance out her kisser – decided to do some movement last night. Maybe I am exaggerating, but I’m fairly certain she cried from 11pm-2am. Matt held her for a good portion of those hours.
We are all tired this morning. Well, Gracie seems fine, but did sleep in 45 minutes later than normal. Matt & I are tired. Exhausted. I refused to get out of bed. I had to take a picture this morning!
We slept in. Well, I slept in. Matt can never go back to sleep.
So now, we are running over an hour behind schedule. The amount of leave I need to take the afternoon off doubled and Matt realized that he needed more than 3 hours of time at the office.
Consider the afternoon canceled. I will pout all day and resent every bite of food eaten at lunch.
Next year. Next year is a long time away though. *Sniff*
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