On the upside, the kid loves to play, stroke my cheek and pull the hairs from my head. He's curious. He loves to play. And his 3 a.m. smiles are worth it (possibly not worth it when my face hits the keyboard mid-afternoon).
Just when we thought he had it figured out and was only up at 5 a.m., he, like all the books predicted, regressed into his new-to-the-world state. Hello, 1 a.m., 3 a.m. and 5 a.m!
This change collided with two unfortunate goals.
First, the hubs and I had made a pact to get up before 6:30 a.m. to avoid the frantic rush and always ended in us being late to work. Me with wet hair and no makeup. Twice last week I wore my shirt backward - all day long.
Second, I am trying to up my milk production to accommodate his additional night feedings plus just trying to keep up with the daycare bottles after the holidays and messed up routines. This all has led to intense hunger (me, not him) and really not a lot of additional milk to show for it. I'm holding out hope.
Sarah's body: "I'm tired. Give me a nap or give me some carbs."
Sarah: "Dude, I'd nap if I could. I'll give you the carbs."
Sarah's body: "How am I supposed to keep you alive plus make enough food to keep a baby alive? GIVE ME FOOD!
So today, I ate peanut butter. Straight from the jar. With the only utensil I had - a steak knife.
Pretty sure one of my shirts also might be on backward.
My life is the definition of class.
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