Tuesday, August 05, 2014


This week has been a weird kind of busy/not busy. I feel like I'm behind on everything, and yet when someone asks what I've been up to, I stare at them dumbly and I shrug my shoulders and I shake my head and I wiggle my toes and I say, "I don't know...I'm tired?" I guess I ask it more than say it because I feel like I need permission for that to be an acceptable answer. And even though it doesn't really answer the question at all, it kind of does. I've been up to being tired?

Other stuff too though. We went to the beach, and we're planning a trip to Seattle to watch my Grandpa get married, and I'm working on a thing for a charity event next Sunday. You know. Stuff. Just, I don't think you should expect me to be eloquent about it on such short notice. I've been awake since May.

Van is six months old now, and has decided that sleep is horrifying and terrible and ridiculous and un-fun. Everyone has advice about it and while they give it to me I stand there drooling and counting their chin hairs and not hearing a word they're saying. Not out of spite, just out of a necessity to preserve brain activity. Then I smile and say, "Ah, well, this too shall pass." It seems like a safe thing to say because everyone usually just smiles back and says, "Oh yeah, faster than you think!"

Which I have mixed feelings about, actually, because despite the fact that I only ever get to sleep an hour or two at a time, I really really like this stage. It's my favorite so far. Like, as I was writing this, he rolled across the room and is now trying to crawl up into my lap while jabbering away like a cantankerous old man. Will he still do this when he's seventeen? NO. No he will not. I don't think.

But he will sleep, I guess.