This weekend was supposed to house the night that I was to have completely free of the screamy baby.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Both Dave and Alexander came down with the cold that had taken up residence in my sinuses and because my resistance is way, way down due mainly to my complete lack of sleep, is still holding tightly onto me. So, Saturday night I headed to bed nice and geriatrically early (for me: 9:30), Nyquil firmly on board. 10:00, 11:00, 12:00, 1:00 the sweet baby awoke for no apparent reason other than the boogies in his nose were driving him crazy, and that he wanted to make me wish that I were dead.
In order to inflict exquisite torture upon him because I am a Mean Person, I decided to pull out the Booger Sucker and do some work each time. But by 1am, I had HAD it with him and deposited him none to sweetly with his father, whose nose full of loud boogies had earned him banishment to the downstairs couch.
Back to bed I happily treked (actually full of guilt, but hey), only to be awoken by my husband 30 minutes later who waltzed in to get the Booger Sucker. Then, 20 minutes after that, back in they trekked, Alex now visably hysterical. Maternal Guilt took over, and I pulled Alex into bed with me. Where he stayed until several hours later at 7:30am.
Which effectively meant that I started out Sunday morning worse off than I’d previously been.