The past few days I have been surprised to wake up exhausted. Surprised to be awake with a fussy baby for one, two, even three hours in the middle of the night. Surprised that, by the end of the day, I have accomplished nothing--NOTHING--save for the care and feeding of a newborn and perhaps the care and feeding of a preschooler and maybe--just maybe--writing a thank you note or two or washing the dinner dishes or finishing a load of laundry (but certainly not all three of those!).
For some unknown reason completely devoid of rationality, I keep thinking that THIS will be the night that Nathaniel will sleep blissfully for 5 or 6 hours (or that he will just wake and eat and immediately fall back asleep). THIS will be the morning I wake up bright-eyed and refreshed (or at the very least not in a zombie-like state). THIS will be the day I Get. Things. Done.
But, alas, none of those are true. It's been three weeks. THIS is me officially reminding myself that this is a marathon, not a sprint.
Original post by Smiling Mama. Thanks for reading!