...for the title of this post:
"Poo on the landing - another weekend tale"
"Much labor on Labor Day"
"Up all night - the story of my life."
Suffice it to say that I need a vacation from this past weekend. Going to work would have been much more restful.
Which is not to say that it was *bad*. I'm just totally exhausted and completely drained. Lots of predictable things happened. Such as Hank refusing to go poo and Anne refusing to sleep.
Yes, there was a lot of poo talk this weekend. Which is a natural result of the following:
"I just stepped on something, what was that? I do need to vacuum more often, I'm just so tired. Oh, a raisin, let me pick that up. Wait, THIS ISN'T A RAISIN!"
That would, once again, be the "old, dried poo" phenomenon coming back into play. And Anne. My word, Anne. The chica refuses to sleep more than 2 hours at a time these nights. And right in the middle of the night, she'll wake up and just not want to go back to sleep. Like last night, where she was cooing and playing with her feet at 2 am. Clearly, I should not have unswaddled her. I've never been so bone tired in my life. I'm taking her to the doctor today. She's just very congested and I want to see what's going on with her.
Sigh. I'll leave off with a funny anecdote. This one, in particular, is for my sisters. :) On Sunday, we went to visit my parents. I noticed that my mom had some new placemats with pretty cloth napkins out on her kitchen table. They were lovely, embroidered with fall leaves. I set my caffeine free Diet Coke down on one as I went to chat with her in the kitchen.
Suddenly, I feel a *whisking* sensation next to me.
"Oh, you can't set that there. We can't put the food on these. I'm picking them up before we eat dinner."
Placemats that you can't eat on? This is also the home of the "bathroom rugs you can't walk on" and "the couch you can't sit on."
Only my mother. :)