Hitch in my log sawer

Have not slept well the last two nights. This follows not sleeping well the previous seven nights, which followed sleeping pretty okay what with the NyQuil numbing my ability to adequately encognicize myself to hear the baby. But the guilt was too much to bear, so I tried staying up late with the boy, letting him sleep on my lap watching "Rush Hour" until 2 a.m., to give Ainsley a solid four or five hours of sleep (which of course, she used worrying about us).

We finally gave up on both the cradle and the crib, and let him sleep a'twixt us, which was great for Ryan and Ainsley (10 good hours of sleep with the occasional feeding break), though I was both balanced on the rim of the mattress trying not to squoosh him (because although he is only 24 inches tall, when he sleeps on his back, he has a wingspan of five-and-a-half feet) and half-awake on Asha patrol, who tends to walk haphazardly onto faces for fun.

So it was assumed that being back in Dayton, I would man-embrace the Sandman, but instead I've been disoriented and restless. Last night, I laid there for ten minutes before realizing I hadn't even turned off the light. Sunday, I heard loud muffled pops outside, thought they were fireworks, and woke up to see if Dover was okay. And both nights, I'm still half-wondering where Asha is, and still absent-mindedly hugging the edge of the bed.

Perhaps I will take some NyQuil tonight.


*kaff kaff*