To No Avail.


So, I’m afraid that my three day post hiatus was solely on the basis that between a significant lack of sleep and sick children, nothing interesting happened. In fact, the only thing to note is that I have admitted defeat with my current bread recipe.

I have tried a million (ok maybe more like 8) times to make this thing work. To no avail. If it’s not failing to rise, it’s turning into a shape resembling a slug, or turning into 1.5 loaves (any idea how hard that is to put together?), or trying to unravel itself into a jelly roll without the jelly. Not only has all of that actually happened, but the consistency shares an uncanny likeness with a brick. A dense brick. In an attempt to fix this, I have squished, squashed, beaten, shaped, cut, rolled, sighed, yelled, slunk (to my sister who had a notoriously bad start to her bread making, and has since fixed it tremendously well) and I am now at the conclusion that it’s not fixable in any way. Next stop: sister’s recipe. I have hope that it isn’t actually my baking skills, but if the sister’s tried-and-true recipe doesn’t work, then I’ll probably hang my head in shame. And continue to produce bricks. I mean loaves.

In other news, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in about a month, and we’re getting perilously close to the sleep study that turns me into a Borg.

I’m not sure what has happened to my dear sweet 12-hour-a-night sleeping Littlest, but he’s been replaced by a 3-hour-a-night sleeping Littlest, and I want the original back. Part of it I can blame on Thanksgiving, as we were in a strange environment, and part of it I can blame on congestion from that cold he had, but we’re a week past all that and really, I don’t understand why he’s hungry at 3am all of a sudden. He has tons to eat during the day, 2 solids a day, and I’ve even tried seeing if he’ll go back to sleep. To no avail.

I KNOW! My apartment is alive and trying to turn me into a zombie. APARTMENT? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I AM ALREADY A ZOMBIE! YOU CAN’T MAKE IT WORSE! ARE WE GOOD?

Moving on…

My sleep study is on Tuesday night and I am terrified. Not only does the machinery described tell you (to your utmost surprise) that you had a bad sleep, but it bears a terrible resemblance to what they did to Captain Picard in Star Trek: The Next Generation. If no one hears from me, you’ll know why. It’s not the overnight I’m worried about, it’s the next morning I’m worried about. They wake you up at 6, and will not let you go back to sleep until 9. Then you get to take a nap and… once you fall asleep, they wake you right back up. And it happens not once, not twice, but FIVE times. In the meantime, no coffee, no chocolate, no sugar.

I.
Am.
Going.
To.
Die.

Just thought you should know that. Lucky for me though, my sister is joining me, as they were nice enough to co-ordinate to avoid excess travel costs. So at least she and I can play cards and look at wedding stuff whilst we slowly perish.

Lastly, I’m going to leave you with the most hilarious thing I’ve seen all day. However, before anyone decides that I’m a terrible mother for not being in arms reach, we leave the bathroom door open, and both hubby and I are on constant noise watch. Noise = good. Silence = bad. I also check on him regularly, both visually and verbally. He is, however, approaching the “privacy” stage at ludicrous speed, so we are working within that. I also keep myself within a 5-second-sprint distance, and never do anything that takes my complete attention, to allow for noise watch. So, I was at the table, eating my dinner, and Biggest was in the tub. There are normal splishy-splashy happy tub noises going on, with the usual chit chat that goes on with the bathtub toys, when all of a sudden, I hear this “BWAHAHAHAHA”. I stop for a closer listen.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHA”.
 “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA”.

Weird, nothing’s usually that funny.

“BWAHAHAHAHA”.

This bears closer investigation. So I sneak up to the door, and poke my head in. Biggest is sitting in the tub with his back to the door. I assumed this was going to involve some hilariously devilish water hijinx, probably with a large puddle on the floor, so I wait.

Biggest sticks his hands in the water. He puts them on his face. He rubs his face in his hands.
“BWAHAHAHAHAHA”.

I try very hard not to burst out laughing. To no avail.

That’s right folks, my child was entertained to the point of full on belly laughing… by washing his own face.

I bid you adieu.

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