Put her in the bassinet and you have a martini.
Spike's Bitches 35: We Got a History
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
And then breastfeed.
I think the snarl of traffic trying to drive home stole my happy. Because I am suddenly feeling a very cranky Bitch indeed. Which sucks because I wanted to catch up on the internets but now I don't think I should be allowed to talk to people whose opinion of me matters in any way.
*stomps away*
(Oh, not in any Goodbye, Sweet Internets way. I just am bitchy and there is just no reason to subject others to me right now.)
She finally grumped herself to sleep in my arms, and the strangled pterodactyl is now thunderously snoring. I'm going to try to set her down without waking her. Then I'll have a martini. Shall I make one for you too, Cass?
*loves JZ forever*
Please?
sleepies, Matilda, sleepies.
Well, that was a very peaceful seven minutes, but she's awake and teary and back in my arms again, looking all red and wounded and betrayed.
::sporks self in eye::
JZ, put her down in her bassinet. She'll be fine.
She's fed and dry and unharmed. Let her learn a little self-soothing.
Unless you don't want to, at which point, I will piss off and shut up.
But I order you to have that martini.
well, we know where the problem wih the garage shower is. But we can do much about it. It needs a plumber. Out of a bizzare cussedness that I can not explain, we are continueing with the tub project. Basic sanding is almost complete. then cleaning then painting. I will have a lovely sponge bath and wash my hair in the kitchen sink. Tomorrow I will have a real shower at the 24 hour fitness. If this works I get a home shower Tuesday am.
JZ please save a martini for me after I am done with the power tools.
poor JZ, sounds like a sleepy baby to me.
First, you put a baby in a box ....
When Franny was a teeny tiny 10 month old, Lori took a bunch of photos of her posing in a tea kettle box. I still get a big goofy smile on my face when I look at them.
Aims, pffft. Usually I'm a big self-soothing cry-it-out cheerleader, but it just doesn't seem to be working; most of the time the stress just leaks out and she mellows in a couple of minutes, but today she's just getting sobbier and more distraught. Poor little muffin.
You know what works best for Matilda, but my babies always responded well too a darkened room, soft singing, and either rocking or having me pat lightly on their backs.