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Hmmm...The calendar seems to have almost caught up to reality, if not the clock. Let me state for the record that it's actually Monday, March 22, and I've started this entry at 11:07 am. There. I feel much more official now.
I know I'm a week late in posting the results of my baby weight contest. The little bugger surprised me by skipping the big growth spurt this time, so Jen was closest to his 14 pound, 10 ounce weight with her guess of 15 pounds, 3 ounces. Jen, the link in the comments only brings me back to the comments page, so let me know how to find you, okay? I've got a Swell Prize to send your way!
Speaking of the baby, he's moved into a new phase of not sleeping at night. It's making me very, very cranky. We moved him into a new bed out of the bassinette (I don't think that word is spelled correctly, but dammit, I'm sleep-deprived and can no longer think!), and he's rewarded us by going back to the "awake every two hours" phase. It's been a week, and I'm slowly moving into disfunctional and bitter. Somehow, I'm holding it against the Husband. Logically, I know he wakes up each time, too (or, at least most of the times--some of them I hear him snore through, at which point I get REALLY angry), but somehow it's ME who does most of the being awake. Or at least that's how I feel.
It's also leading to some very bizarre dreams. Last night, in the 3-4 am range, I dreamt that I argued horribly with some woman at our new church because she didn't want to cast me in her production of Godspell. Mind you, neither the woman nor the production exist in real life, but I was all sorts of angry in my dream about it. I actually woke up pissed off. This is not good.
It's time to get him into his own room, and fast. Unfortunately, his room is presently in a state of half-walls and is home to a chop saw and several other power tools, as well as about 18 tons of plaster and saw dust. Not exactly a good baby environment. The Husband needs to get his ass in gear in there. This is about as likely as the ficticious woman and her ficticious production of Godspell becoming real. He's not easily motivated these days. I swear, if he doesn't find a job soon we might all implode. But that's the stuff of another entry, and the baby is waking up...
On a related, but depressing in a different light, note, I went to a bridal shower for my friend Heather yesterday. That's not the depressing part--the shower was very nice, and I really like Heather. The depressing part was that in talking to her friend Cass, also a very nice person whom I liked very much, I realized I have become one of those women who can only talk about the baby. This might have been made worse by the fact that I saw my friend Erica at the shower for the first time since Will was born, but still--I need to remedy that. I am more than just Will's mommy, and women who don't have children of their own are not necessarily interested in hearing every detail of my little darling's life.
Enough of that--he's trying to work himself into quite a state in the other room. Apparently, the Fisher Price aquarium will only entertain for a short amount of time/
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