Jinx

"It's going to be a bad night"

Starting at about three weeks (when every night before was a "bad" night), I started saying "it's going to be a bad night".

And it never was.

Last night, it was a bad night, relatively speaking.

Bad in our world is (knock on wood) a 5am inconsolable wakeup with soaking wet jammies.

We are so lucky.

I know this.

We had dinner with some other "newish" parents last night, and I knew when I was saying what our decent sleeping patterns were, we were in for a bad one.

Saying things are good? 

It's a jinx.

So tonight, before I go to bed.

I shall say again.

"It's going to be a bad night".

No peas... please?

You Can DO IT!

As those that know us in real life know, we work together.

It's actually great.

But last weekend our office moved to a new location.

Add packing and unpacking, a four day business trip, just being back from maternity leave, a sick husband, getting into the daycare routine, and normal every day life together?  And you have a schizz show.

But today?

Today, I rocked it out at work.

I did two loads of laundry.

I got food in the crockpot for a yummy dinner that was ready the minute we walked in the door.

We got baby fed, bottled, bathed, and all the stuff ready for daycare tomorrow.

Hell, I even did my yearly cleaning out of my shirts drawer and Goodwill purge.

Carpe Diem!

You can DO IT!

Baby Pterodactyl

Daisy has the sound we call the "baby dinosaur".

Robbie has one-upped him with the Baby Pterodactyl... screech.  (Thanks Baby Linders)

That baby?  He's a talker.

All.  Day.   Long.

You asked for more videos?  You got em.

Man Down...

MAN DOWN.

I repeat MAN DOWN.

Poor Shawn.  It's bad when we're hoping he has food poisoning and not a stomach virus. 

Robster and I have been staying FAR FAR away from him, and hoping that he ate something bad and didn't catch something roto.  I have AK and T on the hotline in case he has to go to urgent care sometime tonight. 

Right now we're homesteading in the guest room until time for Robbie to go to bed.  Then, I'm sleeping in the way comfy guest bed just in case.

I guess it's time to test if that 11 weeks of feeble attempts at breastfeeding built any immunities up in Robbie.

No fun.

I guess we can't nag Shawn about it being his day to blog...