It's 5:49 a.m. I'm awake, Brian and Baby are asleep, the boys are at grandparents'.
I'm thinking of stealing away to Starbucks.
But first - I am well, thanks for asking. It's been a little quiet around here since my breakdown/tantrum/acknowledgement of defeat a few weeks ago. But things are better. Truthfully, as soon as I hit publish I felt better.
Some people have a therapist. I have a blog.
I finished home visits last week, and finished paperwork this week, so I am completely finished working. I spent all day, every day, of the entire week with Silas for the first time in a very long time. By Friday he was obviously happier, and I was obviously exhausted. But it was the good kind of tired.
This afternoon Silas stood in the middle of the living room with a lampshade on his head (the same lampshade I have tried, in vain, to keep on the lamp all week) and proclaimed, "I am Sir No. I tell people No all the time." I can't think of a better picture of Silas as a toddler.
In other news, Emmy has stopped sleeping. Altogether - she's just given it up, like a bad habit. Maybe THAT is why I've been exhausted. In time, after much beseeching and nursing, she will deign to sleep, so long as I never put her down. She's been in our bed all week (we moved her out of our bed about six weeks ago, but if my choice is to sleep with her in my bed or to never sleep again, I'm up for making concessions). At her check-up yesterday her (beloved wise wise) doctor suggested that cereal may help settle her (presumably refluxing) tummy at night, so that she can sleep again. Cross your fingers, friends. I need this baby to sleep already.
And with that, I'm off. There's a Saturday morning cup of coffee with my name on it.