on being a zombie

Motherhood is kicking my ass today, y’all. Do not be fooled by that angelic face. This little devil child woke up no less than EIGHT TIMES last night, two of which were for over an hour. She’s like a tiny raver, doing snow angels in the night.

Thank God she’s so cute because her sleepless ways are sucking the life out of me. If I may be so crude, my eyes are starting to look like Hugh Hefner’s ball sack (I heard that in a movie once, I think, and it felt appropriate. Come to think of it, maybe the mention of Hugh Hefner’s ball sack is never appropriate. Sorry folks.)

We’re getting a sleep expert to come and help us out this weekend. Sounds like such a modern, first world problem with a posh solution, but I’ve been woken up every two hours (sometimes every hour) for the past TWENTY WEEKS and I’m ready to do anything to sleep for five consecutive hours. Just five little hours.

I reckon the Stewart household is going to look like a zombie invasion over the next couple of weeks, as we all adjust to this new sleeping plan. I hope there’s light at the end of the tunnel, otherwise I’m afraid we are going to have to send this one back. Cute or not, she’s clearly defective.*

*That face though! How am I supposed to resist that?