twotothree

The Germano household has never been such a disaster.  Mike has been working double shifts for over a week now, to save up enough time to get next week completely off because my parents are coming into town.  This leaves me alone with the nighttime demonspawn that has replaced my baby.  Her reflux has been so out of control lately that if she sleeps more than forty-five minutes at a stretch I count my blessings.

So I’ve been functioning off of three or four hours of sleep nightly, and Mike has barely been home at all.  The laundry isn’t done.  The dirty dishes are reaching dangerous levels.  There is no food in the house.  Yesterday I wore the neon-pink silk scrubs that I call “laundry day scrubs.”  Today I wore my scrubs from Monday, pulling them out of the hamper this morning and doing the smell test.  I walked into the break room this morning and drank yesterday’s coffee, with a breakfast of the remainder of a bag of potato chips that I found on the break room table. 

I’m functioning off of so much caffeine that I can’t feel my face.  Yesterday my mother-in-law GRACIOUSLY took Gloria for the afternoon so I could nap.  I went to bed with my book, intending to read for twenty minutes before going to sleep.  Instead I pulled the covers over myself and went into an instant two-hour coma.  I have strange dreams when running off of little sleep.  A couple of nights ago I dreamt that Gloria and I were walking on a beach.  Then Gloria turned into a ham sandwich and I ate her.

But today, today is a day to celebrate.  Mike is working his last shift and I may get to go into work on Friday with my hair brushed and clean clothes on. 

Also, the g-monster turned five months today.  I half-assed her five-month photo.  I can  never find her other sock, and I’m too exhausted to do more than toss her on the couch and snap the camera shutter.