Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

     Friends, there's something working against me getting any sleep at all and I have to laugh about it, otherwise I'd cry, and I have. Oh, I have. I've cried, I've cussed, I've beat the downy pulp out of my pillow, leaving the lamp swinging from the ceiling when a concerned Tomáš came in to check on me. If you've never not slept for six months you cannot understand. But if you are a mom, you do. Truth is, I haven't done a whole lot of laughing about it. I've been pretty very whiny, actually. But man (oh, man) am I tired. Evidence of that is the fact that I just typed tured, which is actually closer to the truth when you say it out loud. My-an, emm ah tured. Rosy has inexplicably switched her nighttime sleeping routine to daytime. Much like her newborn days, she sleeps a lot during the day and parties all night. Lily, on the other hand, sleeps beautifully all night long, and in exchange is, of course, up all day except for her nap, if she naps. This is, as you might imagine, the exact time that Rosy tends to be up. Here were my last 24 hours:
4:43 a.m. Rosy wakes to greet the day. Poopy. Change her, feed her, try to lay her back down. She cough-cries loudly her malcontent, meaning I have to get her out of that crib to some new real estate and fast otherwise the whole neighborhood will be woken. Ok, that was an exaggeration, but Lily and Tomáš certainly.
6:30 Lily wakes, needs to be changed, dressed and fed ASAP. Meanwhile I'm trying to load the dishwasher and do a load of laundry, both of which also need to be done ASAP. By the time I'm in the thick of all of these things, Rosy is screamin' ready for a nap. It's about 7 a.m.
7:00 Feed Rosy, walk her to sleep. Watch Lily and do housework til Rosy wakes. Repeat cycle.
1:15 p.m. Get Rosy to sleep just in time for Lily's nap. A miracle. Lay down with Lily until she falls asleep, preventing imminent pants and diaper removal, resulting in not falling asleep. Lily sleeps. Another miracle. All I want to do in the whole entire world is have a cup of coffee and read a little something but I opt to sleep instead. I lay down and just as I start to doze off, the wind blows something outside and I wake up. And again. I go and close the balcony door and try again to sleep. I get no sleep. Rosy wakes.
2:30 p.m. Run defense, trying to keep Rosy quiet so Lily doesn't wake. Lately she won't stand to be anywhere but in someone's arms pretty much so I hold her the remainder of Lily's nap.
4:30 Lily wakes. Repeat morning cycle until Rosy is ready for her last nap.
6:15 Tomáš comes home, I fly out the door for a quick run. Come back, baths, bottle, breastfeeding, bed.
8:30 Watch American Idol. Eat dinner.
9:40 Go to bed, waking Rosy in the process. Feed her.
10-1:50 a.m. Interrupted sleep when she rolls over onto her tummy or loses her pacifier and then fusses.
1:50 Feed her
2:10 a.m. Go to the living room to try and sleep as she makes little noises. Notice that Tomáš is not in his bed. He's on the floor in Lily's room. She sneezes. I go to cover her with a blanket and she starts crying to get up. Her pacifier is out of her crib and (I'm not making this up) she insists on picking it up with her feet, ''Lily do it!!!'' Try to meet her every desire just to get her to sleep again. Discover she's poopy. Change diaper. Go to sleep on couch. Sleep til 4 something when Rosy wakes and rolls around, making happy noises. Poops. Start cycle over again.
     I admit Tomáš does a lot to try and help me. He doesn't complain when at six I go and plop Rosy next to him in bed (for the time being he sleeps in the room next door so at least one of us can function). On the weekends he gets up with Lily and gives her breakfast. The problem is, though, that he does not have lactating boobs. Wait, ok so that is not a problem. I try to be careful what I wish for. But I will jump for joy the day that I get eight consecutive hours of sleep. Or six. Or five. Oh, who am I trying to kid? Even four. With that said, there is a snoring Tomáš next to me on the couch right now, remote control on his chest. You know he is sleeping when a movie with talking dogs is being allowed to play on TV. We should both probably call it a night. 

Happy half year, little lady.


Ta Da!



Flappin' her wings



Oh, daddy!



Tiiiimberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Night night.