It's 3:00AM. We are supposed to be packing up the car in another hour for our trip to Chicago, but guess what? I'm awake already. In fact, I've been awake all night. Every. Thirty. Minutes.
Why, do you ask?
Is it because you love seeing every hour on the clock present itself twice? Is it because you are giddy with excitement about your trip?
No. Nope. Nada. None of the above.
It's because my darling son is cutting his first tooth. Or maybe he's cutting all 24 at once ( how many freaking teeth do we have? Too lazy / tired to google it or count.) It has seriously been 2 weeks of sleepless HELL at our house. He never slept well before, but it has been worse since Mr. Pearly White has decided to cut through my son's flesh. And as much as I feel bad for my son (that shit's gotta hurt) I'm really having myself a giant pity party right now.
I'm. So. Tired.
And...we're leaving for a trip. Our flight is at 7am. I look pretty. Really really pretty. All I can do is hope that the little cutie sleeps on the plane.
He's fussing. Gotta go.
I'm going to shove my face with so much deep dish pizza I'll fall into a long fat slumber. Mmmm. Slumber. Pizza. Slumber pizza. Mmmmm.
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