Perhaps related to the sleep deprivation, or perhaps REALLY related to the sleep deprivation, I've been a bit weepy lately. Sometimes it's apropos of nothing, sometimes it's apropos of everything in my life feeling like it's falling apart—by which I mean I dripped my soaking-wet-from-the-shower-I'm-not-done-with wetness all over the two-year-old and her pile of blankets and pillows and books in the bathroom (because, yeah, she needed to take a pretend nap right next to me while I showered—cute, right? I know—I'm a terrible person for finding it a smidge suffocating!) when I had to get out of said shower to replace the crying baby's binkie because the two-year-old chose that moment to behave like a two-year-old and refused to do the binkie replacement upon request, and I might have gotten snappy and then I might have felt bad—and annoyed—and bad. So, yeah, crying. Been doing some of that around here.
Today I cried because I couldn't figure out what to do with my 43 WHOLE MINUTES of free/work time after getting the kids and the babysitter settled and before having to nurse the baby. I know, I'll spend it holed up in my office going through kleenex like they're going out of style! Productive! Gratifying! Well worth the money! Whoops—gotta go!
photo courtesy cohdra, morgueFile