In more ways than one.
My angel of a baby is in daycare now and apparently decides to shut down and sleep for about four hours after I drop him off each morning and then another two to three in the afternoon. That means he's taking in about four to six ounces of a bottle every day. Which means, you guessed it, he's up at night wanting to nurse. YAY.
I didn't want to admit it before but now that it's stopped I don't have to worry about jinxing myself and I can freely talk about how much I miss the nights when he SLEPT ALL NIGHT EVERY NIGHT. I'm talking eight weeks straight of glorious, restful, beautiful, delicious sleep.
Well, that's gone now. It was nice knowing you.
Good thing I already know that Sleep Is For The Weak. If you don't know that, you should. You should also come to the book party in Chicago on Saturday at the Book Cellar (see my widget for details). Yours truly will be there from 4-6pm with the lovely Rita Ahrens. Accompanying me will be my trusty breast pump and two of my best girlfriends in the whole world. The residents of Binkytown are staying put while mama goes out on the town. Yes, indeed.
Something tells me no one is going to sleep this weekend. Not the baby, not Papa Binkytown, and not me. There will be people to see and things to do and martinis (oh who am I kidding- a strong vodka lemonade) to be had.
If you are in the area, please come by and say hello. I promise I won't point out the bags under your eyes if you ignore the ones under mine.
