Right. So I'm up late on the phone with a pal last night (late for me). No problem. Still got plenty of time to catch some Z's, and that was my decision. 9:40 p.m. Good to go. Close eyes.
Wake up. DH's arms are wrapped around my middle and he's murmuring amorously in my ear. Crack eye open. 1:23 a.m. Is he kidding? He doesn't have to get up at the arse-crack of dawn in the morning to do laundry, feed the baby, cart him off to daycare, and then spend the day on the phone at work chugging cappuccino to stay awake. Murmur back, snuggle a bit, hope that's sufficient. Seems to be. Close eyes.
Wake up. Baby's crying. Open eye. 3:20 a.m. Grooooan. (You have to understand. The baby NEVER cries in the middle of the night, not since he was a month old.) Beg DH to take care of him, which he does. Yay, DH. Doze.
Wake up, ten minutes later. Baby is crying, DH unable to get him back to sleep, so assumes he is hungry (unusual for baby this early). DH is busy with diaper, asks if I can get bottles together. Sigh. Get up, make bottles, give one to DH to feed baby. Yay again, DH. Check clock. 3:43 a.m. OK, let's try this again. Close eyes.
Wake up. Cat is on my head trying to get into windowsill even though window is shut and have no idea what he wants out there at...4:10 a.m. Start to cry. Get up, toss cat out, shut bedroom door. Try desperately to close eyes.
Finally. Dreaming! Some strange thing about having dinner at a theme restaurant with a lot of crazy seafaring gear on the walls. What the hell am I eating? Is this fish? Should it be looking back at me?
Buzzzzzzzz. Alarm clock. 5:00 a.m. Damn. Try to consider whether it is better to be awake than to have bizarre dream. Then contemplate how big a cappuccino one can have before going into caffeine overload. Contemplate filling a swimming pool with it and diving in. This is going to be a looooooong day.
And it's Monday.