On the mornings when I wake up feeling less than rested (which, let's face it, is pretty much every morning these days), I like to stay upstairs in bed after Ben and the kids go downstairs. Rarely am I able to actually fall back to sleep during this time, but I like the dark and the quiet and the stillness before I officially start my day with the munchkins. I say officially because often by the time I get this "alone time" I've nursed a baby, changed a diaper or two and hung out with a 4yo who likes to come in our room right at 6 and then waits with us until we get his sister up at 6:30. So yes. I like having a few minutes to myself to close my eyes and be "off duty" before heading downstairs and if it means I don't always get a shower before Ben leaves the house, so stinky be it.
This morning was much the same as I am just wiped out, uber tired these days. We're going on two, almost three, weeks of really crappy sleep (which is saying something in our world). Lincoln's night sleep is all over the place, so much so that we gave up the beloved dream feed because it wasn't making a difference anyway (I'd go up to nurse him at 9ish and be up again at 4ish, so boo to that). So now I go to bed every night not knowing when or if he's going to need me which is just as bad, especially since he's needed me at different times every night but one since we ditched it last week. And then you add in the sickness. HD spiked a fever late Sunday and then, wow, Sunday night was perhaps one of my worst nights ever for sleep (which is really saying something!) because of looking after him and having him crash for the night in our room. So yes. I am a dang zombie once again, which is exactly why I decided to once again hang out in bed this morning as long as I could.
When the clock told me that I better get downstairs so Ben could finish up getting ready and get out the door, I entered the kitchen and straight away noticed this:
Except then Ben went to check on him a few minutes later and you know what he was actually doing? Why those pillows were in the kitchen? Because he used them to reach the Kindle I'd left at the back of the kitchen counter yesterday and that's what he'd been doing for half an hour under the blanket. Turkey.
So Ben took the Kindle and then left for school and I was left to finish up breakfast with the kids and prepare for another few days of hunkering down with sick kids (and at the rate RL is coughing, in my face, I'm probably next). Harrison and Raegan both like to have orange juice each morning and HD likes to be the one to carry it from the fridge to the table. Normally that's just fine, but in my tired stupor last night, I put an unfinished bottle of wine on the bottom shelf of the fridge door, resting it against the OJ because it wouldn't fit anywhere else upright-ish. But guess what happens when you take out the orange juice? The wine no longer stays upright-ish and suddenly you've got wine all over the floor and the door and all that's left in the bottle is this:
I didn't by the way. But only because it's a Moscato which isn't my favorite white wine in the world. If it had been a Riesling? Yeah, I think I might have just gone there. Instead I'll just rely on my other survival technique, our beloved PBS!
A dear friend had the brilliant idea to try chocolate today instead. Here's the result of that!
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