You would think after four kids, I would recognize the power of rest, but after Shifty (Maeve's nickname due to shifty-from-the-corner of her eyes look) arrived, the Fitzsimmons have slowed down, not at all.
And I know, as most other mom's know, that if Mommy is tired (and thus bitchy) the whole fam damnily suffers.
As a kid and young(er) mother I could not understand how on earth my grandfather, Grancha, could fall asleep sitting straight up in his recliner. Now, four weeks postpartum, it's an every night occurence if I dare plop down on the couch to even try to catch a DVRed Daily Show.
I could be asleep by nine most nights if I tried, but like Bec at naptime, I'm afraid I'll miss something. I feel like I've earned a few hours of relaxation, and I have, to do whatever, but what I need to to do, honestly is to sleep.
Rachel Maddow will still be spewing beautiful liberal bias tomorrow night.
I would have a much better attitude in the a.m. and would enjoy my day more if I tried to get an extra hour of sleep a night. I could spend time conscious with Poor Andy over coffee rather than him just looking at me, asleep on the couch with drool creeping down my face.
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