Patron Saint of Sleep, Tinkerbell, whomever is out there in the universe, send sleepy vibes to the littlest man.
When our story began I was more like
Or so I've been told. O.k. one guy told me I kinda looked like her, another one said I sounded like her. Noah's crying. Just a minute... (Once friend told me I looked most like Gina Davis and later said Gina Davis was ugly. I will not picture Gina Davis.) Add a cap sleeve, 25 lbs., and some scattered adult acne. Close enough.
Noah wakes up twice each night around 2 or 3, and again around 5. He finally wakes again when the kids get up for school. In the cruelest twist of fate, for about two weeks he did sleep through the night. Then he changed his mind. Hold on... I have to raspberry his cheek.
He proceeds to cry for the next 13 hours unless held (with all one's devoted attention), fed, or napping. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard. One more sec. Liv's going to walk him around while I finish typing.
Last night after he peed out of the top of his diaper at 4:30 I found the drawstring from my paint splattered sweatpants tickling the ground when I walked back to bed. I think that in my sleep I was creating a noose. On a happy note, I dreamt I had a fantastic run.
I thought wildman allergic-to-milk Isaac was a tough crowd. He had nothing on the No-ster.
This is the self portrait I took this morning (the camera takes off 10 lbs. give or take 150). If you see me out of the house on a caffiene run Just got him back. Kissing fat cheeks. pretend you don't. It's the humane thing to do.
and he's taking his first nap, gotta run.
Don't judge.
