I should check my old blog entries from Sophia's 12- to 18-month days, because there's a dim, grim familiarity to this kind of tired. It's the tired that comes from chasing the little motherfuckers around all day as they eat shreds of toilet paper and topple headfirst into the bathtub and waterboard Elmo in the dog's water dish (seriously, it was a sight to behold), and then ALL GODDAMN NIGHT they toss and turn and fuss and want to nurse you dry and sore and kick you in the soft belly with their overlong sharp toenails.
Daphne's sleep has gone to absolute shit, and I thought we were through the latest bout of teething, but maybe no. All I know is that I went to bed at 8:30 last night to offset the inevitable wee-hours awakening and exhaustion and people, I was JUST as grumpy at 2:30 a.m. as I ever am.
I thought I was doing okay until I got a good look at myself in the daylight; my skin looks like the surface of the moon, all uneven and lumpy and grayish, and the photo record shows giant brown smears under my eyes. Not even circles; they're not that confined. I look like I used a deep taupe shadow to apply my football makeup, is what I look like. And it's not the lighting because they're visible from all angles.
Anyway, that's all. Sean started teaching today and we're about to move and deal with all the closing stuff so things might get a little thin around here, is what I'm saying. Also that somebody's crib is going to be located a LOT further from my bed in the new house. Like maybe out in the minivan.*
*Did I tell you I joined Team Minivan? Yeah. It's great. It's literally bigger than our bathroom.