Things Get Better, Things Get Worse
I am starting to find downtimes here and there for me to take care of myself. A ten minute nap here. A few minutes to check email there. It all works out in little ways. I'm still up at night for some godawful reason, not just to feed Isabella, which is not a big deal. But I'm up because...she's in my space! Good lord. Cary and I are crashing on a double sized futon mat, and he gets his alloted space (big cause dude has big shoulders), and Isabella gets her space (and it's not that much but she does require at least a foot so she can flail about), and I get the leftover space, which often has me up against the coffee table. Nice!
Here's a conversation we had Sunday morning:
Cary:: "She slept all night?"
Me: "No, but YOU did."
I tried waking him up so he can scoot over so I don't have to spoon with the coffee table leg, but it didn't work.
Thankfully I got to hop in the shower today. I know, it sounds gross, but I have to make sure someone has her and that she's been fed so I can duck away for a good long take me away Shower. So wonderful. And then there's Cary who is stuck with Isabella and ready to hand her over to me, fresh out of the shower and just barely refreshed. Okay, so much for that.
Okay...someone's heard me typing away and now requires my assistance. BTW, the milk truck is now the milk supertanker thanks to some lactation tea. Wow.
Char