Is there a word that means more than exhausted? If so, we may be the definition of that word. It's 6:42 am and Sean is already off to court after a brief visit home last night to watch some tv, bathe Milo, walk the dog, and sleep. That's how it's been every night for the past 4 weeks besides that most nights he's not home early enough to help put Milo down. And how it's going to be for 4 more weeks, possibly.
And, on top of this, I'm still sleep-training Milo and for some reason it only worked one fluke night again. I've been up since 6 and then before that from about 2:40 until 4. And it feels like all I ever hear anymore are tired whine-cries. Every time I think there's progress, I get booted right back to square one.
What was I thinking doing so many chores yesterday? It's not like they're getting noticed. There's already garbage everywhere, dishes in the sink, and another load of laundry to go in before I've even folded the last one and it just makes me tired to think about it.
I do try to get out. We have some playdates scheduled and I go shopping fairly regularly, but at this point it's just more draining sometimes. That doesn't mean I don't still enjoy it or that the people I see are tiring, it's just like when you take too much of one medication and it stops doing its job.
It really could be worse, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck hardcore right now. Our bodies hurt, we're all so tired, and the light at the end of the tunnel is still so dim. We're hoping to go on a little getaway when he's done, so at least there's a little something to look forward to in probably April.
Someone save us.
Miss Ellen
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