I had forgotten about a lovely newborn phase called "the witching hour". Which is not one hour, which would be tolerable. Maybe even palatable. No. It is six hours. My day looks something like this:
I'm really tired. I know that this is my new normal. Three under two is running, without a break, from morning through the night. Things will get easier once we close on the new house (which is now a full month behind schedule) and once Lola is sleep trained and we (meaning Joe and I) are actually sleeping more than two hours at a time. And I'm thankful every day for this crazy. But, holy good god, I'm really tired.
I had more that I wanted to say, but I already forgot what it was so it couldn't have been that important. Anyway, I'm alive