Buried in my own crap

The unpacking isn't going so well. I'm buried and can't dig my way out. It's making me super irritable too, I'm constantly snapping at Sam. (Like it's his fault.) Even when I get a suitcase unpacked I shipped myself a boatload of boxes so then I have those to unpack too. I can't keep up with it all. Plus? Two and a half months of mail? It's a lot. The counter is covered and I can feel Yago cringing at the thought of the kitchen counter covered in paper.

I got my hair trimmed yesterday and Petra cut the "style" out of it. Now it's just a really short bob instead of being angled. I'm disappointed but I'll let it grow a little and try again. As soon as I sat down she looked at me and said, "You lost a lot of hair, didn't you? I can see it." Um, yeah. That's great. I'm going to look like Mary the secretary. (Only Mickity knows who I'm talking about.)

Time to go dig some more. See what I can find in my mountains of crap.

Not a Love Machine

Ralphie is a toot machine. A great big smile-wearing toot machine. Watching him smile and toot makes me laugh.

I put him down for his morning nap while he was awake and he went to sleep in his bassinet. I'm so excited. I put him in the bassinet last night and he hollered for 40 minutes and then slept for 50 mins. I guess it's baby steps. At least baby steps in the right direction.

I'm really tired today and I look it. I have a zillion things to do but can't remember what they are now that I'm ready to go. I hate that. I'll run the errands I remember and then tomorrow I'll kick myself for not taking care of B and C while I was right there taking care of A. (If that makes sense.)

Compliment?

So what am I supposed to say when people comment on Ralphie's "perfectly shaped head"? I've been responding with, "Thank you." It seems weird and feels like it's dangerously close to an insult. I guess I can't complain after Yard Dart.

I'm Ba-ack!

I was just feeling all victorious that I got Ralphie to sleep in his bassinet but then the coffee pot turned itself off and now I hear him starting to fuss. Darn it. I need to win the battle of wills but I'm losing miserably. He senses my weakness.

Sooo, what a summer. What a trip back. I finally got home yesterday. I wasn't sure I'd ever get here, I was starting to think there was some vast conspiracy against my travel. The military couldn't get me home and then the commercial airlines couldn't get me home. I was getting desperate.

I have never been so happy to be in my own bed. Never. There is an indescribable pleasure derived from laying on your own mattress looking at a familiar ceiling. For the first time I stayed awake after flying home (well, pretty close) and then was able to sleep last night. Maybe the jet lag won't be bad after all. Sam went to bed last night without a problem. He woke around 2:00 am and told me he couldn't sleep. I told him to get in bed with me and he went back to sleep fine, so fine he didn't want to wake at 6:15.

I went to the bus stop this morning hoping to meet another mom but it was just me. It made me feel like I'm an overprotective loser but let's call a spade a spade.

I have to say, this could have been my best summer ever. I feel like I saw everyone I wanted to and had a good time. I visited family and friends that I haven't had a chance to visit in quite a while. I wish Yago could have been there (for parts of it) but I don't think he would have been able to hang.

Well, Ralphie's decided to not nap without his pacifier (me). I don't know how to convince him that sleeping on his own would make everyone happier. Apparently, not everyone would be happier.

My deepest gratitude to the friends I put out with very short notice, I love you guys.