Is there a fancy award for Shittiest Blogger? I would like to self-nominate!
So, I have my first freelance project that kicked off last week. Which means I'm working. Meh. I try to visualize a fat check in the mail (within 60 days from my invoice, anyway) and I feel better. I'm managing to keep it to 3 days this week, and so far so good. The other 2 days are filled with doctor's appointments and errands, so lucky me. I'm always working; at least now I get paid sometimes.
And the boy? He may be getting a second tooth. GAH. We're locked into a wakeful nighttime routine that is almost cry-it-out proof. I say almost because I don't really know. I can't really stand to hear him cry, even if it's to get himself back to sleep, when I know (or at least suspect) he has real growing pains. Poor little gummy bear. Poor haggard mama.
And he's going through some interesting digestive changes. More solid food will do that to you. He had SEVEN shits today, y'all. SEVEN SHITS. Not skidmark shits, but full-on turdles. Good lord.
And he's crying right now. Off to stand outside his door for 5 minutes and then go nurse him for the first of many times tonight. It's a glamorous life.