But it started at 4.30 am. And that never makes for a great day.
So, yeah. Clare woke up screaming at 4.30. I went in to try and calm her down. She fell back asleep in my arms, and as I eased her down . . . the crying started back up. We tried to calm down/snuggle down/not-rock-because-there's-no-rocking-chair until about 5, when she decided to start standing up on my lap and playing.
Coffee it was.
That was followed by dropping Charles off at the hospital for his 24 hour shift, to put a damper on the day from the get-go. (Second get-go?)
Constant clock-checking, waiting for the next item on the list: Home. Breakfast. Walk. Nap. Get ready. Errands. Screaming in the carseat. Lunch. Nap. Fall asleep on the couch instead of getting anything productive done (that excessively early morning wake-up took it out of me!). Snack. Play. Dinner. Bath. Bedtime. Chores
Finally . . . jammies for me and a chance to pound out a post mostly just to do the 7-in-7 thing. And a moment to appreciate how much having Charles around makes things better. (Continue denial that being at el hospital more often is a likely reality sooner than I care to imagine.)
None of that was really that bad. It wasn't. Really. It just started too soon. And that just changes everything. Bah Humbug on this Thursday.
|I do not make mischief.|