If there’s one thing you can say about Ellison once she actually falls asleep, it’s this: girl can rock almost any sleep position necessary to maintaining slumber. One morning I walked in and she was face down, one knee under, her opposite arm gripping the bars of her crib. Doesn’t look comfortable, but who am I to question the effectiveness of a sleep position for a baby who obviously doesn’t sense her father who exploded into the room like a freaking SWAT team. The above position was captured during a mid-morning nap she was packing in just before we left for church. This “knees under” position is accomplished by a restless child (remind me to tell you about “too tired to sleep” condition) who is also just now discovering mobility circling around her vast empty crib like a plowing donkey except a tired Ellison doesn’t crawl using arms and legs…she just uses her legs…basically planting her head into the mattress and pushing with her legs. The photo above is the eventual end to this new routine.
I’m kicking off the week this week in a miserable, embarrassing powerless fart. More like a “toot.” Rarely use that word. Ellison had us up at 3:30 last night screaming bloody murder. Then 4:00. Then 4:15. Then 4:45. Fed her at 5:00 which is way too early. She’s knocked out now. I’m up. Caffeinated. Not nearly as much as I should be. Great way to start a work week.
Watched a little “Say Yes to the Dress” this weekend. Don’t ask. Except that I’ll say that I started to get slightly nauseous thinking about sporting the cash for a wedding dress for Ellison when she gets married. Their budget for a wedding dress was $3000. I’m paying off cars with $3000. That or for half that, I’ll learn how to make one myself. Like how are you going to charge $3000 for a dress that is made entirely of synthetic material? Am I not aware of the tragic nylon shortage? For $3000, there better be some freaking leather and jewels somewhere on there. It better double as a patio umbrella, papasan, parachute or something. Then, I was reminded by my lovely wife that as the dad of the bride, you pay for the entire wedding.
Someone donkey kick me in the forehead.
It’s Monday, kiddo. Put that smile on and knock ’em dead.