They tell you to not cry over spilled milk, but when you’re two year old dumps your fresh hot latte all over the car while you’re nursing another child, well it’s hard not to. Especially when said latte was supposed to be your breakfast and lunch.
Then there’s after a long, late night nursing session, when your baby decides to thank you by vomiting up all of her dinner. That’s a horrific case of spilled milk, because it requires clean up and changing and, worst of all, more late night feeding and less late night sleeping. It’s almost as painful as the time I dumped a bottle full of hand expressed milk. I still cry thinking about it.
I ran everyone to bed early tonight, because I’m feeling so very tired. It’s like the last three weeks have finally caught up with me. Of course the father figure has been snoring for the last three hours. Because he’s tired. I wanted to hit him, but that involved putting Gestated Cinco down, and that’s just not an option right now and it also required more effort than I can muster. So I’ll mutter things sarcastically to him while he’s sleeping, in the hopes of permeating his dreams.
Which might not be what Gestated is looking for in her diet. Which than might explain why she is so not
interested in anything but being held by me. But she’s perfectly cute so I’m down with that.
But it makes typing hard. And I gots my priorities. Not to mention that if she happens to drift off, I have a better chance of drifting off myself. And as it stands now, she's fascinated by the big, bright computer screen.