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Letting Go of the Guilt

I am sure you’re all aware of the sleep issues I’m having with Charlotte. We are in the middle of a revolution, and Charlotte is the new world and I’m pissy old England. Charlotte is clearly winning. 

 For two nights Charlotte wasn’t feeling well and I let her sleep with me. I did this with my dog once 9 years ago. I should have known what was coming after. She obviously wanted to keep sleeping with me, so maybe I fucked up there. But then I tried cry it out on the advice of others and my baby cried so hard and got so upset that she threw up all over herself.  There is no way I can ever do that again. Maybe I’m weak but I don’t see how the two of us crying is going to help any of us sleep, especially when it leads to unnecessary vomiting.  Into my bed she came and we both slept. 

I know 90% of you are rolling your eyes so far back into your head that they may stay there. This tactic has always been on the wrong side of the parenting charts. I totally understand that too. Before we had a baby Eric and I always said NO BABIES IN OUR BED EVER. Then we had a baby and realized how fucking clueless we are.  But now I see that what works for one family may never work for another. Maybe your baby sleeps just fine in their crib for 10 hours. I applaud you, but now I realize that doesn’t necessarily mean you did something great in parenting, your baby may just be a naturally great sleeper. I’ve been putting so much pressure on myself every night to have her sleep alone and in her own room because it’s what society tells me she should be doing. But then I decided to factor in how our life is. Eric works nights and doesn’t come to bed until 2 AM. He then wakes up at 6 to be super dad for 6 hours until the sitter comes and he can take a nap before work. So every night, I’m alone with Charlotte for bed time and Eric needs to sleep as much as he can to be a functioning father. If the only way our almost 6 month old baby will be calm right now is sleeping next to her mama, why is that so bad? And why am I making myself feel like what I’m doing should be kept a secret and something to be ashamed of?  I’m not being a bad parent, I’m doing what I need to do to survive.  She will spend a couple of hours in her crib or pack and play but then when she wails she wants her mama and we just sleep better. When she sleeps with me I barely ever wake up when she eats. She just nuzzles up next to me. For half the night I’m alone in the bed anyway. I’m going to be 28 and I’m still afraid to sleep alone most nights, so I don’t know why it’s such a shock that my baby feels the same way.  This is just what works for us right now and I’m letting go of the guilt.

It’s okay if you don’t agree with my choices or call me crazy or say I’m doing it wrong. There may be something you do as a parent that I don’t agree with either. That’s just a natural part of life and healthy debate. I mean I don’t think one should wear leopard underwear under white pants, but if that’s your choice I’m not going to judge you.  I just ask that you don’t judge me as a mother and outright tell me I’m doing it wrong. I respect your opinions and advice, but don’t tear me down for letting my chubby beautiful muffin snuggle up next to me every night.   Last night I let go of the guilt and let her come in bed with me and it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. We both woke up smiling and that’s something I won’t apologize for.  I don’t expect it to be this way forever. I’m going to let myself catch up on some much needed rest and then see if she’ll sleep on her own again, but removing the pressure from myself has been like taking a weight off my shoulders.  The important thing is that Eric and I are on the same page and we are. We both are on the same page when it comes to getting as much rest as we can!

As always, I thank you guys for reading and always giving me advice and being a raft when I feel like I’m drowning.  This blog has been like free mommy therapy! 

Just Reserve A Seat For Me

So today we went back to the pediatrician for the second time in two weeks. I feel like I should just write them a check for $1,000 dollars and say it’s for all future copay’s since I’m coming every week now. Last week we took her because I noticed her right leg is bigger than her left leg. INSANE I KNOW. I still don’t have any answers on that but nobody seems to concerned so Charlotte can live with her extra chunky thigh on one side. This is probably why the child has yet to roll. 

We were back at the doctor today after a horrendous night of sleep that involved lots of crying because of a stuffy nose but then I saw a rash all over the child’s body. Nothing freaks me out faster than a rash. She had it on her back and her chest and I already had her diagnosed with legionnaire’s disease and spending her life in a plastic bubble. It turns out she’s sweaty and got heat rash. 

So I rushed to the doctor for a chubby leg and a sweaty baby.  Just take all my money now doctor, the crazy train has just begun. 

This One Goes Out to the Pregnant Ladies

I can honestly say I loved being pregnant.  I had a very easy pregnancy with the usual pregnancy complaints that are unavoidable, with a few bouts of terrible sciatica, but for the most part it was great.  I loved feeling the baby move, I loved watching how my body transformed and I loved growing another human life.  I know this may not be the case for everyone, but I urge all you preggos out there: love your pregnancy now.  Love everything that comes with it, because once that baby comes nobody is going to give one single fuck about you.  Rub your belly in public, get a seat on the subway EVERY SINGLE TIME, eat ALL OF THE THINGS.  Seriously, I cannot stress this enough.  If you plan on nursing there is a chance your baby will not be able to handle anything dairy like my baby.  This can happen to you.  TAKE BALLS OF MOZZ TO THE FACE NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN.  Eat sticks of butter.  Put butter on your butter.  Eat all of the baked goods that fit into your body.  When you feel like you can’t take another bite, lay down for 10 minutes and try again.  DO THIS.

Don’t worry about pregnancy weight gain.  Those pounds will come off eventually, and you will be too tired to even give a shit in the beginning.  You are growing a human for fucks sake.  You need to gain weight.  Gain whatever and worry about it later.

Let everyone pamper you.  Seriously, play up your pregnancy to the 10th degree.  ESPECIALLY if this is your first pregnancy.  When it’s your second nobody is going to care because you already have a child and they’ve already seen you pregnant.  Go for prenatal massages as often as you can.  Let people open doors for you.  Let people bask in the glory that is your pregnant form.  You are a goddess.  A beautiful, round goddess who I hope is eating cheese as you read this.  Remember, BALLS OF MOZZ, TO THE FACE.

You do you, pregnant girls.  Enjoy it all now.  We can’t wait until you pop the little ones out and join us on the crazy train.

Three High School Students Walk Into a Bar…

I work for a federal judge in a courthouse, which means I work in private chambers and also have access to the courtroom assigned to my judge. Because of this sweet gig, I am able to use the jury room of our courtroom (unless we are on trial, in which case I use a closet off the robing room, or my judges office because she is awesome) to pump. The jury room is sweet because it is equipped with two bathrooms, a large conference table and a fridge. I keep the milk sucking machine set up at all times to cut down on time each time I need to subject myself to that fucking thing. It’s private and sanitary and as wonderful as pumping can be. 

That is, it was, until I failed to realize the door the jurors use to enter the courtroom was unlocked and three high school students walked in on me mid pump. 

You see, a college group was using the courtroom to perform mock trials. I had completely forgotten this was taking place, but I never thought anyone would be going into the jury room. I put on my pumping bra, stuck the machine to my boobs and relaxed as the familiar woosha woosha sounds came on. Five minutes passed and I hear the door handle jiggle. Then I see the door open. And then three girls walk in and GAPE AT ME while I ask them to EXIT THE DOOR IN WHICH THEY CAME. I am not joking when I say these girls stared at me like they not only didn’t speak English but also never met another human life form on earth. Straight up mouths agape and frozen bodies staring.  Then, when I finally get them to leave they leave the door open! And it isn’t like I can get up because I’m strapped to the machine!  The machine that is still MILKING ME. Someone finally closed the door and I learned to lock it forever. 

If turns out the college professor got a group of high school kids to play the jury for their mock trial. They were instructed to go to the jury room as part of the trial and were surprised to find me. These poor kids. Not only did they have to spend part of their summer vacation playing jury, but then they get assaulted by a strangers boobs literally being sucked in to a tube. I probably would have frozen up and stared too. 

Thank goodness they weren’t boys. Lesson learned, lock the damn door when your breasts are out. 

The Blame Game

Ever since Charlotte decided to go all Guantanamo on me and inflict extreme sleep deprivation, I have found myself playing the blame game.  There has to be some reason as to why this child refuses to sleep for at least six hours (who am I kidding, at least five hours would be sufficient at this point.  Fuck it, I’ll even take four and a half) and then I can just blame all the sleep problems on that reason.  First I thought she was too hot, so I bought an evaporative air cooler, put both AC’s on in my house at all times (hello million dollar electric bill) and dressed her differently.  Now she just wakes up with cold hands.  Then I thought maybe it’s because she is just trying desperately to roll over, and whenever babies learn a new skill it fucks with their sleeping habits.  She is now turning on her side every fucking night but not rolling over for shit and still waking up.  Then I’m wondering, perhaps it’s because I have gone back to work, and she misses me so much during the day that she wants to nurse all night.  I mean maybe this is true?  Maybe this is why she eats like she is practicing to become a competitive eater and take out Joey Chestnut at the Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Contest 18 years from now?  Or is it because my milk supply has dropped?  How would I even KNOW THIS?!  The oatmeal isn’t doing SHIT except just giving me one more fucking task to do and one more bowl to wash.  “The oatmeal will help her sleep.  It will fill her up.”  Everyone who said this to me I’m really just waiting for your pants to catch on fire because you LIED.  Now I’m seeing online that the introduction of solids can effect their sleep in a negative way.  Google is the god damn enemy.  Google also told me that if my baby is having separation anxiety that having something with my smell on it or my milk on it will help her settle herself back to sleep.  So I’m obviously going home tonight and spraying my boobs ALL OVER her fucking crib sheet.

Maybe she is turning into a vampire baby because she’s getting a tooth.  She has enough drool to fill up an Olympic sized swimming pool, shoves everything into her mouth that she can, including my jaw and chin last night, and just generally seems uncomfortable.  That is the excuse I’m going for today.  If I don’t have something to blame, then I will really lose my mind.

In the words of the great songstress Pink, “Just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough.”  Listen to Pink, Charlotte.  Give your mother a reason.

A Night with Charlotte

Just because I know you’re all jealous of the bags under my eyes, I’m going to give you some insight into how I’ve gotten them.  They’re the latest fashion craze.

6:15:  Charlotte gets overly dramatic for no reason at all.  She is screaming and crying just because.  Gets a bath to calm her crazy ass down.

6:45:  Has some milk.  Passes out mid-feed.  I know this is too early for her to sleep, but I put her to bed anyway.  Spend 2 hours doing my own thing and get ready for bed, prepared to wake up at any moment by the little tyrant in the room next door.

9:45:  Wake up to screaming.  Someone is hungry again or just does not want to be left alone.  I bring her to my room to eat some more and put her down in the pack and play next to me because I am so over making the trek to her room 3 times a night and no matter what I do the child still wakes up to eat.  She passes out again, as do I.

11:00:  Hello mother.  You fell asleep again.  Let me sing you the song of my people.  That song is nonstop wailing until you take me out of this fucking pack and play prison you have put me in.  And now that you have pissed me off I’m going to demand food again.  I will not rest until I have what I want.

11:20:  The tyrant finally goes back to sleep.  Spends the next 3 hours moving around nonstop so I can’t even sleep.  Why did I bring her back into my room again?  Why is this my life?  WHY WON’T SHE SLEEP LIKE A BABY SHOULD.

2:45:  Hello again mother.  I see you’ve noticed your bedroom AC is no longer working.  Maybe that is why I woke up once more.  Or maybe I woke up because I just peed ALL OVER THE PLACE.  Get out of bed and change me.  This is how I roll.

3:00:  I’ve given up.  Eric is on the couch sleeping where it is cooler, Charlotte is in bed with me having a conversation with the ghost that I think lives in my home.  I’ve accepted this is my life now.

3:15:  Silence.  The tyrant sleeps.  Good thing I can close my eyes and rest for only two more fucking hours or so before I have to get up again and go to work and be a productive member of society.

6:40:  Have fun at work mother.  I’ll just stay here in the middle of your bed and cuddle with daddy.

I am this close to losing my mind.  Mostly because she slept at my mom’s house on Saturday night and only woke up ONE FUCKING TIME so I know she is completely capable of sleeping.  She’s going to go live there if she keeps this shit up.  I’m waving the white flag Charlotte.  I SURRENDER, I SURRENDER.

You Know the Phrase, Opinions are like Assholes?

As of today (Google searching never disappoints) there are 1.19 BILLION monthly active users on Facebook.  Facebook has become a wonderful outlet for family and friends to connect all over the globe.  You can video chat, send pictures, share information and even send money (although I wonder who is doing that…).  You know what else you can do on Facebook?  You can judge the shit out of other people.  You can judge them and shame them all from the comforts of your own home.  I won’t lie and be a hypocrite, I’ve done it.  Just the other day I shamed the shit out of that Minnesota dentist who killed Cecil the lion.  I don’t know anything about his life, his family, his hunting practices, but I shamed him and I judged him nonetheless.  But what I’ve really come to realize is that the worst offenders are mothers judging other mothers.  There is a constant barrage of statuses and tweets and instagrams of mothers judging other mothers choices and decisions.  And you know what?  I think it’s time we put an end to it. News flash – I am not the greatest mother in the world.  And neither are you.  There isn’t a single person out there who is the perfect mother, even if you think are you.  I have made mistakes (and Lord knows will continue to make mistakes), you have made mistakes, and that’s FINE.  Mothering is just like any other aspect of our lives.  We fuck up, learn a lesson and try again.  Yes, there are truly awful mothers out there.  Mothers who do terrible things to their children and should be punished for their crimes.  But in today’s day and age when the social media brigade engages faster than the actual news story, I find that women are using this as an opportunity to say how they would never do this or never do that.  What is that saying?  People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.  Unless you have a crystal ball and a knack for seeing the future (and if you do, come be my friend and help me win the lottery) then how the fuck do you know what choices you’re going to make down the road?  How do you know that something won’t happen to you later on in life for which you and your children are on the news?  I pray nothing ever happens, but the point is YOU. DON’T. KNOW.  And I think that if something did happen to you, the last thing you would want is to see 500 mothers on social media blasting you for being a horrible mother, because that doesn’t fucking help anyone. My point is, stop being so quick to judge.  You literally have no idea what it is to walk in someone else’s shoes.  You have no idea why they made the choices they made or what has led them to do what you deem to be horrible.  Perhaps the mother who did the unspeakable act which you would never do did so because she was an all around shitty ass person, or perhaps she did it because she is sleep deprived or dealing with family issues or aliens have invaded her body and are planning to take over the world.  No matter what though, you don’t know the reason, and perhaps you never will.  But I think the world would be a little bit of a better place if we stopped attacking each other all the fucking time.  At least I know I’m going to try.

On Life and Loss

I’ve thought about writing this post for a while, but every time I try it feels like the words get stuck in my head and never quite make it to the page.  I want to write it all down though because writing has always been a release for me, whether or not anyone ever reads the words I put out there.  I’ve always found I can articulate myself best when I write down my thoughts instead of just speaking.

Every month milestone that Charlotte hits is a big deal for me.  She’s growing up faster than I imagined and I love seeing her monthly progress, but with that progress is a deep sadness that never goes away.  Most of you know that my grandpa passed away 13 days before my daughter was born.  He suffered a heart attack on February 5 and he never recovered, and he died on Valentines Day.  I don’t think there are words that can adequately express how difficult that time was for me and my family.  We were in the final weeks of my pregnancy, the first grandchild for my parents, the first great grandchild for my grandparents.  How luck was I to welcome my baby into a world where all four of my grandparents were here to see it?  The week before I found out I was pregnant, I told my mom how when I had a baby I wanted a photo in the hospital of me holding the baby with all four of them surrounding me.  Once February arrived I was sure I would get that photo.  I can see it in my head.  I can picture the picture that never was.  It haunts me every day.

Every month Charlotte does something new.  She smiles, she laughs, she grabs her toes and tries to roll her chubby body over without much success so far.  She does all of these things and my grandpa never sees it.  There are days when I look at her and think to myself, how is it fair that my grandpa never met you?  I try not to be angry with God, but some days I feel like the only way I was ever going to get blessed with my beautiful baby girl is if he took something away from me.  I know that sounds terrible, but I have to be honest.  The phrase death is a part of life never meant anything to me until all of this happened.  If I’m really honest, when my mom called me to tell me that my grandpa was in the hospital, deep down I knew he was never coming home.  He had health problems for so many years, and he had recovered so many times and we were blessed beyond words to have him with us for as long as we did.  My grandpa was 82 years old, so it wasn’t like he was a young, spring chicken, but what a cruel twist of fate.  To this day I feel like it is the most unfair thing I have ever had to experience, and I think it’s bullshit.

Grief is a strange thing.  I think about my grandpa every single day, that’s a given.  Some days I think about him and don’t shed a single tear, I just am reminded of him and I smile and I move on with my day.  Some days, and for some reason this is usually when I am driving, the grief hits me in the chest like a sledge hammer.  I think of those final days in the hospital where I sat there with my swollen body, my baby’s little body moving around inside of me, and the life leaving his.  I look at his watch on my wrist and I think to myself, why couldn’t we get another week?  Another month?  Why did this have to happen at all?  Why couldn’t science have a break through where people could take a pill and live forever?

I truly believe that my grandpa is Charlotte’s special angel.  While I was in the hospital visiting him I was having regular contractions.  The early signs of labor began when my mucus plug decided to pop out, and I was petrified I would be having the baby while he was in the hospital.  When it became clear that he was not going to make it, I was petrified I would have the baby and miss his funeral.  When he died, all of my contractions stopped.  The signs of labor went away entirely, and I think that’s because the second my grandpa entered Heaven he decided he was going to spend some time with Charlotte and I think they had the best time ever.  I had 27 years with him and there isn’t a single memory I look back on where we did not have the best time.  He would have moved Heaven and Earth for me if I asked him to, and I know he would have treated Charlie girl the same way.

Whenever I am having a particularly bad day, I just think of how I imagine him to be now.  Young, healthy, handsome, having the time of his life.  I believe he is with me and my family every single day.  He sees us laugh, he sees us cry, he knows how much we love him and miss him.  But I think he is happy and at peace.  I see him in my daughter’s eyes and hear him in my daughter’s laugh.  If death is a part of life, he is a part of her.  He is my first great loss and she is my first great miracle.

I miss you grandpa.  Every day.

Life with Charlotte: Five Months In

How is it possible that my baby is five months old?  It feels like just yesterday that we brought her home from the hospital, but it also feels like she’s been here with us forever.  I know that sounds confusing – it feels confusing too.  It’s like I forgot what my life was like without her, but it’s only been five short months.  In such a small amount of time I’ve gone from the crazy blubbering mess who was afraid to dress my baby for fear of breaking her arms, to pulling a onesie over her screaming head yelling right back at her to “calm down NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO BE NAKED ALL THE TIME YOU NEED TO GET DRESSED.”  It feels so surreal and yet every day I love her more and more.  What a privilege it is to be a mother!

Charlotte has such a personality.  She also has a temper.  I love watching her face as she discovers new things for the first time.  Last night she came to the Burrito Bar restaurant on Staten Island with my family, and she was absolutely fascinated with the colored flags on the ceiling blowing in the air conditioning.  She was just staring at them and making so much noise, like she approved.  She smiles at pretty much everyone who looks at her, and she is starting to laugh at a lot more.  She also does the most adorable thing when I am holding her and someone tries to make her laugh.  She acts all shy and smiles and then puts her face into my neck.  I can’t even take it!

This past weekend she also started solids (!!).  Saturday night we gave her oatmeal cereal, and while I was prepared for her to spit it out at us or refuse it, she opened her mouth for the spoon and never stopped.  She actually started to whine if Eric didn’t get it in her mouth fast enough.  I was really hoping the oatmeal would help her sleep longer, but it’s not doing anything of the sort.  It’s only been two days though, so I’m holding out hope.

She has yet to roll over, but last night in the crib was the first time she moved to sleep on her side, and ALL NIGHT LONG she kept moving like she was trying to get on her stomach.  She also woke up every two damn hours wailing, so I don’t know if her mind was in overdrive to roll or if she was just actually starving (I find that hard to believe, because I GAVE HER OATMEAL), but I had to nurse her or rock her and put her back down and then she would twist her body again.  It was a nightmare of a night for me, but I swear when I hold her at night when it’s quiet and she grabs onto my shirt and calms down, it is such a peaceful moment.  How can I ever be annoyed that I’m awake when I’m looking down at that face?  If she wants her mother or to have a marathon buffet eating session for the whole night, who am I to refuse her?  (Let me write a note to remind myself of this when she pulls this stunt again, because I am fucking exhausted.)

She is starting to pull herself up!  I think she is going to sit up before she rolls.  Part of me thinks she’s never going to roll, and I don’t blame her.  Who the hell wants to roll around when you can sit up all by yourself?  Rolling takes too much effort if you ask me. I like to prop her up with pillows or put her in her activity jumper and have her look around.  I also like doing this because I feel like her head is getting flat and I don’t want her to wear a helmet.

Aside from waking up to eat STILL (beast baby) she has slept in her crib, the crib at my grandma’s house and the pack and play at my mom’s house without any problems.  The crib at my grandma’s house was completely foreign to her, and she slept in it from 9 pm to 3 am straight.  Yet in her own friggin’ bedroom she wakes up.  WHAT IS HAPPENING.  She used to scream bloody murder in the pack and play at my mom’s house but last Thursday she went right in after I fed her and she slept just fine.  I’m not going to say thank goodness that we jumped over that hurdle because she may decide the crib is the devil’s den tonight and refuse to go in it.  You never know with this one.  This upcoming Saturday she is having her first overnight sleepover away from me and sleeping at her nonna’s house and I CAN’T WAIT TO HAVE A NIGHT OF UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP (except my boobs will probably wake me up, so who am I kidding).

There is honestly nothing better than being a mother.  It’s difficult to put into words how much I love this tiny little human.  I look at her and I am just in complete awe that she’s mine.  Even the days where I am a zombie and exhausted and need an IV drip of caffeine while at work, I miss her and I can’t wait to get home and hold her close to me and kiss her cheeks.  I can’t wait to see what the next month brings.

The Crib Chronicles

Well, we did it.  We’ve got two nights under our belt in the crib.  We have not slept through both nights, but at no point did we bring her back into our room to sleep, so I see that as a win.  Saturday night was glorious because Charlotte fell asleep, on her own, at 8:45.  Eric and I then went to sleep at 9:00.  This is our life now.  She kept on sleeping until 1 AM, because HEAVEN FORBID she goes 5 hours anymore.  I am impatiently waiting for the day when she sleeps longer stretches again.  PLEASE COME FASTER.  Anyway, she woke up at 1 and then decided to stay up and scream at us until 3:30.  So that was fun.  We tried the “pick up/put down method” where we would pick her up when she cried and then put her back down right when she stopped.  She did not like this one bit.  I think she figured out what we were doing so she just decided to scream the entire time, but oh well.  Eric finally managed to get her to go back to sleep by sitting in the rocking chair with her, which is not a part of the pick up/put down method and most likely frowned upon in all of the sleep books in America and the world.  BUT she then slept until 6 so WHATEVER.  I now have full fledged bedtime anxiety because I don’t know how she’s going to be or react, so that’s a fun side of motherhood.

Last night she would not go to sleep on her own so I nursed her until she was asleep in my bed.  This is also not recommended in any of the sleep books in America and the world, but I am just not the type of person who can listen to her cry in the crib with the hopes that she will get the picture and pass out.  I wish I could do that, but I don’t have it in me.  She went to sleep at 9, and woke up again at 1.  THIS IS NOT DAY TIME CHARLOTTE.  However, I did get her to go back to sleep after feeding her pretty much within 10 minutes.  But then she decided that 2:45 would be the perfect time to start practicing her screams so I sent Eric in there, but she didn’t want Eric because he doesn’t have milk flowing from his nipples so I had to go feed her again.  She acts like she’s fucking starving when I know she isn’t.  I then put her down awake but drowsy (all the sleep books in America and the world say this, but it’s bullshit, because when you put them down they go from drowsy to GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS CRIB awake real fast) but then I held her hand and she fell asleep.  Which would be the cutest thing ever, except I don’t want to be awake at 3 AM holding her hand.  At least I was back in my own bed by 3:10, so she already did better than Saturday night!  Now I have anxiety already for later, and it’s only 9:22 in the morning.

The problem with Charlotte sleeping in her crib is the baby monitor.  I have a love/hate relationship with this baby monitor.  I love it because I can still see her while she’s sleeping, even though that is honestly the creepiest damn thing in the world.  Can you imagine if adults were watched on video monitors while they slept?  It’s like what serial killers do to their kidnapped prisoners before they cut their skin off and wear it. It’s creepy!  But yes, I love that I can still see her and make sure she is alive and breathing and all of that.  I hate it for the exact same reason, because now when she is sleeping I am staring at this fucking monitor making sure her chest is moving and her eyes are closed.  I’m half awake because I am listening for sounds of her being up and ready to rumble.  I am more exhausted now than ever.  Lord above, send me some sleep.  Or free coffee.  One or the other would be just fine.