Of course, "a little better" with a seven week old merely means you sometimes sleep four, five, or even six hours in a row. The six hours in a row is rare, while four hours in a row is happening more and more.
After seven weeks straight with no full night of sleep, you veer into strange territory at night.
One early morning, Ian sprang awake and flipped out:
Ian: "The baby's at the end of the bed! She's lost in the covers!"
Laura: "No, she's in her bassinet."
Ian frantically pawed through the covers at the end of the bed. And then he stopped, a dawning realization washing over him.
Ian: "I thought the dog was the baby. I saw Winnie's dark eyes staring at me and thought they were Margot's eyes."
Laura: "Why would the baby be at the foot of the bed?"
Ian: "They have the same dark eyes..."
Winnie and Margot do share a striking resemblance
Especially when sleeping
Last night, a practically comatose Ian tried in vain to rock the baby but kept falling asleep, mid-rock. He demanded, "Why won't you just sit up?" to our seven week old infant.
Then he babbled, "Our opponent takes better care of the baby then me."
Who's our opponent? Hannibal Lecter? The Joker? Leatherface? Mitt Romney? We shall never know. Ian has no recollection of saying it.
The worst is when Margot fights sleep and then gets mad at us about it.
I'm just a poor, sleepy baby. Why won't you let me sleep?
Surely this rocking, swaying, singing, and patting aren't meant for me?
You give me no choice. I must weep now.
In other Winiferd news, we have zero chickens. We have zero chickens.
I am glad to know we kept the wildlife population out here well-fed for over a year.
Bantam chickens taste best served hot, basted in the juices of their own hysterical fear. I'm sure all ten terrified chicken dinners were scrumptious.
Harvey now lives outside. We tossed him out in mid-April after he crapped on kitchen floor for a solid week. He sleeps in the barn with his buddies, the rats.
He loves it out there. He runs more, eats less, looks happier, and is a whole new cat. Well done, Harvard.
Spottswood and Winnie also had to make a huge adjustment.
They cling to each other a little more, as they deal with no longer being the cutest creatures in the house.
But they have done well, although Winnie licks the baby's head a little more than I'd like.
And that's all I got. Peace out.
