It’s 2:40 am. TJ and I are up again, the 400th night/day in a row this has happened. I’m giving him a bath because I’m hoping this will work, the water will somehow lull him to sleep and I can continue my dream where somehow I’m on the show Jersey Shore as Angelina and no one likes me. Vinny ordered chicken parm sandwiches and didn’t even ask me what I wanted (chicken and peppaaahs!). Pauly paid for everyone to ride one of those duck tours and said he “tried” to leave me a message even though I know my phone didn’t get any calls. Even my subconscious doesn’t give me a break.
This has been going on over a week now and there are few things more soul-crushing than a baby who doesn’t get the memo that sleep is important and mommy needs it so she doesn’t get into a cab and tell the driver not to stop until they’ve reached the Canadian border so she can start a new life as someone who sells scarves and homemade candles on the internet and perhaps will be able to sleep alone in a nice bed with no little human whimpering next to her.
Up next, I’ll read the manual we used to put together Nathan’s bike and the confusing instructions on connecting washers and screws and axles and levers will just knock him out.