Ahhhhhhhhh, the sweet luxury of continuous, unadulterated sleep. Hours at a time of ongoing dreamscapes, so deeply surrounded by non-dreaming sleep that I awake not remembering what I dreamt. Now that's heaven. Usually I'm woken out of so many half-dream states that I have all these incomplete story lines buzzing around my foggy head in the morning. Forget sex - although we actually did it last night (!) - if everyone in the world could have this kind of sleep, world peace would prevail.
So here's to you profiteering pharmaceutical companies: This stubborn anti-establishment-alternative-health brat salutes you in gratitude for your drugs. Thank you for the Amoxicillin that has allowed my son to sleep, thereby restoring his mama to sanity. I'm forever indebted to you.
Now to the important footnote connoted above with the (!) symbol:
(!) After having an interesting form of safe sex last night (I'll keep the details under raps to "protect" my already exposed, very private husband who'd be horrified to know I've ever even mentioned him at all in my blog), I brought up the dreaded birth control issue. We've officially decided that I will go ahead and get my tubes tied or clipped or frozen or melted or whatever they do these days in the name of tubal ligation. We're waiting a couple of months to do it for a few reasons:
1. I'm tired of being tinkered with
2. It'll be easier to recover without having to worry about nursing Noah
3. We're really not having enough activity classified under the title "sex" to warrant doing anything about it at this very moment
That's all for now folks.
Oh, I guess the only other little tidbit I feel like ranting about is that I now understand why those butt-ugly Crocs are so wildly popular: putting on any other kind of kids shoes is nearly impossible. It was hard enough just getting them on a squirmy toddler. Then came having to do it over my pregnant belly. And now it's just worthless trying to cram on spider man tennis shoes when the kid is rarin' to go destroy and my infant is screaming and my diaper bag is falling off my shoulder. I've resisted those fugly Crocs until now, but they're becoming an attractive option to our daily shoe-putting-on fiasco.
Okay, now that's really all folks.