Anya hasn’t slept for more than an hour for three freaking days. Seriously. SERIOUSLY! She has spent the last handful of nights crying out, arching her back, wiggling and crying loudly (something she never does, btw) all night long. She’ll even sit up, spit out the binky, yell at me until I insert said binky into screaming maw, and then fall over comically, dead asleep. I say comically, but I’m afraid I’m not actually chuckling here. I’m too tired to even snort.
You know who I have to blame?
The two top front ones are messing with her. “HI! Can we come out and look around?” they seem to ask cheerfully (and for some reason, I imagine them speaking in a British accent). “Oh, hold on chap, I’ve forgotten my handbag!” and then they go gallivanting around in the gums for a bit. “Here it is! Now shall we go out?” “Sure thing, mate! Just let me fetch my coat!” I keep finding them right at the edge of the gum and then POOF they retreat. GAH!
So yeah, she’s miserable and I’m exhausted.
This morning, I stumbled upstairs with Anya in hand and, with my face still all smooshed from half sleep, shoved a wiggling baby into his arms. He’s been sleeping with Lily, so he’s getting more sleep on average than little ol’ me. He dutifully accepted that he’d get a late start for working today and let me go back to bed for about and hour and a half of rest. He’s so good to me that when the following occurred he didn’t even come wake me up. Want to know what happened? It’s really good. Seriously!
So he’s sitting on the toilet, like he does every morning, when he shifts his weight and his cell phone falls out of his hoodie pocket, slips through his legs and lands in the poop filled toilet. HUZZAH! He now knows that he will reach into a toilet full of crap for a cell phone. He also knows that it was a good idea to pay for the insurance that will replace your phone for $50 if you do something that stupid. Because let’s face it, even if it does work again, would you want to talk into it?