I encourage Sam to shout, "Afflack," because it sounds like he's screaming, "OH F**K!" ??? I can't help it. It's funny. I need prayer. Or something.
Onto other things...
I haven't posted anything in a while and figured I should. We had a hectic week around here since Darrell was out of town last week, so all the little things that happened (that I thought would make funny posts) went unblogged and are now forgotten. Lost in the fog of a tired mommy's brain.
Darrell had a small job to do for an uncle and was gone from early Saturday morning to late Friday night. I can never sleep when he's away from home, and I already don't sleep well enough as it is. Plus, I had a small, crazy man in my bed all week.
When Sammy sleeps with me, he likes to be close to his mama. CLOSE. Like, right in my armpit. So, I end up sleeping with my right arm crooked up high in an unnatural position, while my left hand tries to stay clamped on my right bosom, either pulling it back up onto my chest, or tucking it under my armpit (so as to keep the "armpit boob," which happens after you've breastfed five babies and your jumblies are too tired to remain on your chest, from sliding over into the baby's face, obviously. Not because I just like to hold onto it while I sleep). (And if you cannot tuck your boob behind you, and therefore have no idea what I'm talking about, just offer up a prayer of thanks and shut up about it. I don't want to hear about your perky, young, fancy-schmancy, non-saggy jumblies. Geez, I'm practically stepping on the d*#n things over here when my bra comes off. That may have been a little more than you really hoped to know about me. But, I digress...). In addition to my own personal game of Twister, I lay awake listening to Sammy's breathing all night, making sure he won't suffocate (in the armpit boob).
"Why don't you just slide him over?" You may ask...
Don't you think I've tried? How crazy of you to ask me such a thing.
There's no way to defeat him. He's far too skilled. When I move him over (which happens around 78 times a night, on average), I have all of two seconds to get in a comfy spot before he starts finding his way back. His little arm shoots out and his hand starts feeling the bed as he scoots his body back over to me. He doesn't stop until he feels armpit (or boob) (or both) against his skin. And he does all that dead asleep. It's an amazing thing to watch.
And it's a king-sized bed, for Pete's sake. The tiny, twenty pound squirt winds up with 7/8 of it, while the 1++ pound mom has her butt cheeks hanging off the side.
He also sometimes sits straight up in his sleep, says something unintelligible (possibly a warning I should have been heeding all along), then falls back down onto my face. He remains asleep, but I'm kinda funny about sleeping with someone ON MY FACE. I don't care much for it. Personally, I don't recommend being awakened by body-slams, but you know, to each his own...
So, I'm dragging. Big time. My eyes have been watering all day from yawning. I hope I'll get a good sleep tonight.