“What? My diaper was bugging. So, I took it off last night.”
“Gar. And peed in your crib. Adorable.”
Istas is still a bit, um, afraid of the puppies. She does enjoy running away from them. Which we’re thrilled by because it’s exercise for everyone.
The puppies still have no names. It’s hard to get the time for the conversations that need to be had to come to terms. But, we figure actually caring for them and the human childrens takes priority. We’ve made progress, but we just aren’t there yet.
I forgot how totally insanely adorable puppies are. And always covered in mud. My most frequent verbal interaction with them: “D’awww-aww don’t eat that!”
I confess that, with my natural inclination towards complete sleep dysfunction, I entered into a night shift job with an overly inflated sense of confidence with regards to navigating the new schedule. It’s been surprisingly difficult.
Foremost of the challenges is swinging the sleep schedule dramatically back and forth to maximize time with my family during my off days. This past Sunday I made until about 1PM until I literally fell asleep on the couch. Which was embarrassing since my sister was over to visit her nieces – and the new puppies. I slept until about 1AM and was up again for the day. I pulled another 24+ hour day in order to get the sleep schedule primed for my mid shift on Wednesday. I started to get up today at 2PM. I – no exaggeration – couldn’t think clearly enough to make sentences until about 6PM. In the last picture you see me trying unsuccessfully to be awake today. Claire was kind enough to let Daddy Pooh rest with me.
I didn’t feel human until about a half hour ago. Which is convenient only in the sense that I have to be up long enough to sleep until at least 4PM tomorrow.
The most surprising difficulty has been in every day conversation where mention of the time of day is relevant. I’ve decided that mornings are mornings and nights are nights, which is useful to me to keep track of those who are experience time like normal humans. The more difficult is matching my notion of “yesterday” and “tomorrow” with everyone else. Today my “yesterday” is an overfull mix of Sunday and Monday. It’s confusing. But then, everything is confusing.
The funnier of the interactions are things like treats for Claire. The first two pictures represent what became Claire’s Sunday breakfast. Danielle let’s her have pop tarts occasionally as a treat. Sunday morning was one of those mornings. I’ll usually go get myself a soda or an energy from the convenient store to sugar rush myself over the hump. I took Claire to give Danielle some limited space from the kids (Danielle recently correctly exclaimed that the ease of infants are lost on those with one child). While there I let Claire get some M&Ms. Which I would feel better about if it had actually been evening time like it felt to me. When Diana got there she snarkily noted Claire’s wonderfully healthy breakfast. So, yeah, occasionally Claire wins the child’s dream breakfast lottery. Bonus, Claire ran around with the puppies until they all blacked out.
On a more personally relevant note, my much needed trip to Panama City has left me mourning my breakup with the Sun. But, we got split custody in the aftermath so it’s not like I never get to see The Day. But damn I miss it.
I’m trying different schedules for posting on the blog. I haven’t abandoned it. I’m just trying to find – with little success so far – a rhythm that keeps posts regular. Stick with me during The Interregnum. The King is most assuredly not dead, even if he feels that way.