So, Yogi is content to remain a brat. I swear--that boy. Gah, that's it. That's all I have.
Three sick nieces in this house. The baby, poor thing, cries 24/7. Okay, well, not cries so much as screams. Bloody ohmygodsomeonesaveme screams. And I'm the one on nightshift, so I deal with it mostly.
So, what does Yogi do? Throw the biggest, nastiest tantrums (my room--aka the fert room--is right next door to the baby's--so the ferts are all subject to the noise). It's not close to the ones before. Those I could put up with. This, now, is driving me *batty*.
I am sleep deprived, and not up to this. Even now, with them at their daddy's for the weekend, I swear I hear that baby crying, and I'm just waiting for Yogi to break something else.
mmmmmmmmmmm. I am sympathetic. I know it isn't pleasant. But, christ, how many food dishes is that boy going to go through? I see him sleeping peacefully, now (happy with the child-free, quiet house), and I just want to *poke* him.
I'm hoping this break will be enough to get us partway into next week before Yogi goes all Godzilla again. Which is why I'm not going to VA this weekend. I fully intend on taking advantage of the fact that I get to SLEEP IN and only have furry-related chores to deal with upon waking (yay! no diapers, bottles, kiddie-tantrums--shehitmetookmytoyifellstopitidon'tlikeyou, YAY!).
Maybe by Sunday those scary little pink Christina Aguilera monsters will be gone (ritalin? we need RITAL-OUT!--thank you, South Park). I just--I love my nieces. I *do*. They are beautiful, smart, and adorable (most of the time). But, I will never, and I mean NEVER, have children of my own *shudders*. Yeah, no. I've gleaned that much from this experience, let me tell you.
Uh, yeah. I'll go before this devolves into complete, asinine incoherency (and veers completely from fert-related subjects >ugh<). I may even add a pic. Who knows.