That was my thought this morning in bed when I had a little pseudo woodpecker, pecking at my eyes and my tugging on my ears. [burrows under the covers] 'Mommy is sleeping Rue....go play in your room.'
Which thankfully he did. He listens. But oh, the collateral damage of that request! All the books off the shelf, the wooden blocks thrown across the room and then the monkey was back in my bed, playing his piano app on my phone, and then when he was done, he threw my phone at my head.
What a costly 5 minutes of sleep that was! And I say 'sleep' in the loosest term. Sleep. Oh sleep, I miss deep sleep. The kind where you know you won't be needed. The kind where you don't jerk awake from every little peep and cough and sneeze and cry and whine and moan. But that little grin that I get in the morning, when I go to pick him up...and he says 'UPPPPPPPP!' No matter how tired I may be, it is face meltingly cute.
From what my mother tells me, I was a perfect baby. Happy, easy going, never cried and slept everywhere. She made me think a baby would be a breeze. My son came out roaring and hasn't stopped since; it's obvious he takes after his father! Or, option 2 - my mother developed a severe case of memory loss and forgot. Maybe she chose to forget. Highly likely. I am sure mothers forget on purpose, and often.
Well, this bun in the oven may be another boy, but let's hope if it is a HE, that he'll be just like me.
Or else, I am going to be an early gray-er. [in hindsight, maybe I was setting myself up for this when we chose Grayson as his middle name? Touché God, touché]
