Watch his lips. He kept saying, "buh! buh!" which I assume means ball. Sometimes block.
Unless otherwise stated in explicit detail let's just assume that Mayhem, and me by default, are not sleeping well. Up every hour, two if we're lucky. Religiously. That sort of thing. It's not looking like things are going to get better in the sleep department anytime soon and I'm tired of hearing myself explain it. I'm tired of thinking about and calculating how much sleep we are and are not getting every single night. I'm tired. So tired I went to bed five minutes after Mayhem finally did last night and "Oh, yeah, I forgot to post..." I'm giving myself permission to stop thinking about it. Also, I will never describe a good night's sleep as sleeping like a baby ever again. That's just inaccurate.
Sleep deprivation aside, but along that same line: the other night I propped myself up in bed on my elbow to read a book and rubbed the inside tender part on my scratchy line-dried sheets (dryer's half broke, another time) just a little too hard. Automatically, that little bit of unpleasantness took me right back to the first night in the hospital with Mayhem, propping up on my elbow a thousandty times until it was nearly raw. I was all hopped up on new mama adrenaline and too nervous to relax because I was convinced someone would steal him in my sleep after that whole protect-yer-baby speech they gave us during the tour. I jumped at every tiny peep he made. Foreshadowing of all the nights to come I guess. Ha!
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