Yes, it's 3:30 am, and yes, I am awake. My baby has been asleep since 11. Well, since 7. Following a truly spectacular melt-down at the Mexican restaurant. It involved her standing on my lap (it is ALL she does. She locks her little knees, and refuses to sit, particularly when trying to burp her. I think she's going to skip crawling all together). So, she stood on my lap and SHRIEKED in tiny, impotent rage at her own tininess. No tears, mind you, no hiccupy sobs. Just a red face, eyes squeezed shut, determined to run everyone out of the restaurant. It was truly amazing. And really entertaining for me. I can't explain it, but she just cracked me up. So small. So angry. I took her outside, got her sling out of the car, and she was asleep 3 minutes after she got in it. Then she woke up to eat at 11 and passed out again. If I leave her alone, I think she'll sleep till 6 or 7.
But I'm not leaving her alone.
I'm sitting here with my UNSHIELDED nipple in the kid's mouth. Even in her sleep, she is ornery, and she is pursing her little lips shut. She is immune to tickles, nudges, drips, and (gentle) shoves of boob. But I want that boob there the second she starts looking for it, before she starts thinking about how she likes it. And it might work. But, chances are, tomorrow is going to suck. Fortunately, we have no plans.
I will continue to sit, with my cat snoring next to me (do all old cats snore?). Tonight's a good night to do it, since Ryan is in Virginia for work.
Less than a week till Rory's first flight!
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