It's been hell. The last week, I have slept not at all. There has been not nearly enough sex, and my ass seems to have gotten bigger despite my constant gym time and my newly discovered climbing wall prowess. Last night, I could feel in my arms the will to throw The Bug across the room. I've actually smacked him on the diaper twice, once in front of people, because he bites. The smack doesn't help anything, or hurt him at all. I swear it's a reflex I didn't know I had.
I just need sleep. I need for him to sleep. I've taken to praying for it. He has to learn, has got to learn to sleep for longer than two hours at a time. I don't know how I'm supposed to not kill everyone in my path, with my hands.
How do chicks with no help do this? I know of ladies with husbands away at war and families in other countries. How? How? How?
Today at four a.m., Mister Aran took over with The Bug. I think he was truly worried that I'd hurt someone. Later, my father-in-law took The Bug to some place with putt-putt and batting cages and an arcade. I had nearly four precious hours alone, which I used to lay back, nap, read, play video games, write...
Oh wait. No I didn't. I used the time to call the insurance company, vacuum, do laundry, grocery shop and cook.
When Mister Aran reads this, he'll be pissed.
posted by Samus @ 10:01 PM
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