Hello, Pushkin

Me! Reddish hair. Whiteish skin. Totally exhausted. Good riddle, eh? Okay, not really. But it's the best I can do today.

Mae went on a sleep strike last night. She was up for a snack at 1:30, then sort of went back to bed, and then was up again from about 2:30 until 4:00 ish just, you know, wanting to hang out, bounce up and down while holding the side of the crib and talk. She screamed whenever I left the room, but she wasn't hungry. She didn't need a diaper change. She didn't seem to be teething (although I gave her some Tylenol anyway at 3:30 out of desperation).

I rocked with her. I held her. I read to her. I shushed her softly. Then I shushed her in a very angry way. I explained to her in a very calm and rational voice that mommy has only a limited amount of patience after midnight and that she was using it up fast. Then I explained the same thing in a not-so calm and rational voice. I tried to look at her lovingly and remind myself that one day, I'd miss these times, except I didn't believe myself. I snapped "NOTHING," at my husband when he stumbled in, bleary-eyed, asking what he could do to help, then went right back to rocking with her miserably, not knowing what to do.

Eventually she had a bit of a bottle and went back to sleep and everything is fine now. There's not much point to this post, really. I have nothing insightful to say about this. Nothing at all, really, to say except that I'm tired.