The chocolate is gone.
The flight is booked.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.

I have those lines running through my head right now. In actuality, those lines have been running through my head all morning long, like some strange kind of Dora the Explorer song (although I guess it would be in Spanish, then, eh?) or mantra that makes no sense.

The chocolate is gone.
The flight is booked.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.

With every clothes pin I attached to fabric, I heard the lines repeating themselves over and over again in my head until I actually had to verbalize them. Humming a make believe tune to accompany the un-rhyming words. When I walked down to the giving tree with Michael on my hip and Kate dashing ahead of me, I was mumbling the words under my breath. Even when Kate started our newest chant, “I do believe in fairies. I do! I do!” under the tree after checking to see how much of the candy we laid out was gone (one piece out of three…pretty good for just one night, I think), I was thinking…

The chocolate is gone.
The flight is booked.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.

…in between her words.

I think I’ll blame this, and the tears that haven’t stopped flowing since ten o’clock this morning, on being over tired.

Michael was up more than half the night last night, wrestling with his Mama, crying out in a scary high pitched voice in between babbling like it was three o’clock in the afternoon instead of three o’clock in the morning. I’m guessing that it was his sore gums and budding teeth that woke him up and kept him there. Either that or something else is bothering him.

Whatever the reason for the late night date reminiscent of the early days with my little man first home from the hospital, I only ended up with about two hours of sleep last night.

And although you won’t catch me saying this very often since I am the queen of staying awake,

I am tired.

I was hoping to catch a nap today so that I would be on my toes at work tonight, but it isn’t going to happen. Michael is already down for his afternoon nap, Kate is bombing around here like a twisted fairy on a mission and I’ve got too much to do before I dress myself and try to figure out what to do with my mop of hair and choke down a protein bar so that I won’t feel as though I’ll die of starvation one hour into my shift.

No rest for the wicked, eh?

Ha.

I’ve got more to say about Rock’s new status as my roommate in this house and my neighbour who strolled over to say hello and introduce herself and then tried to pluck Michael from my arms even though he was screaming (I don’t think that I made a very good first impression, but who gives a flying fuck? I don’t allow people to hold my baby unless I ask them to or the baby wants to go. He didn’t want to. So he didn’t have to.) and my letter from my Aunt and the weird, gross cheese that didn’t melt right in the sandwiches at lunch and * sigh *….

The chocolate is gone.
The flight is booked.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.
Oh boy.

And now I’m crying again.

Yes, I’ll blame it on the lack of sleep and all encompassing fatigue.

Even though I know the truth.