The last three days have been brutal. In sum: [cue soundtrack: Flight of the Bumblebee]\
Eat eat eat cry cry turn over *weeee* laugh laugh eat eat eat try to sleep cccrrrrryyyyy try to sleep *pow* in the kisser lips pulled off eat nose pulled off eat eat eat eyes poked out hahahahahaha turn over sit up laugh turn over cryyyyy fuss fuss eat eat whimper sleep cryyyyyyy turn over hit hit punch turn over change diapers pee everywhere laugh turn over hit punch bath *splash* kick and play kick and play eat eat eat fuss fuss GOD WHEN CAN I SLEEP put boy to bed ooops! wake up dozing dozing oooops! wake up dozing dozing cryyyyy wake up dozing dozing asleep phew! take bath read book....sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep
Last week he slept two nights straight through. Then, just to keep me on my toes, he had a little growth spurt and was waking up every three hours again. This was just about the time he learned to turn over, so aside from being extremely active he was also extremely hungry and has been eating non-stop for days, and my poor boobs feel abraded with a fine-grit sandpaper.
Then, as if the storm had past, he slept through until seven a.m. this morning. It's no wonder my boobs were stuffed like Roger Ebert in a cheap suit.