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I think I’m going to be bringing back my Annoyance section, in a big way. Primarily because I am a disgruntled, sleep-deprived bitty.

See? Look at me. Being real honest. I’ve got a short fuse and very little patience for my own children, let alone random, adult strangers.

So, for the love of God, if you are one of these said random, adult strangers, or even an adult friend, please, do not, under any circumstances, make commentary on how fucking tired me or my sleep-challenged baby are. We know. We’re living it. As if my greasy hair thrown haphazardly in a ponytail, my spit-up coated sweats and milk-stained regatta t-shirt circa 1993, and the dark bags under my eyes weren’t indication enough, I don’t need you reminding me that I look like hell. Or that my 6-month old looks like hell.

We both feel it.

So, either adhere to Thumper’s motto, “If you can’t say something nice… don’t say nothing at all.” Or lie to me. Tell me you think that I look pretty and am one kick ass mom. And that my baby is the most adorable, well-behaved creature you’ve ever seen. I could use the confidence boost. Anything but reinforcing what I already know to be painfully true.

Also, note to self, do not venture out with both sick children solo, to the grocery store, on a Saturday afternoon. That’s called asking for it.

It sounds like the beginnings of quite the children’s story, no?

I heave cried into that Mohawk yesterday when I went into the office for my first full day back to work. It may be the sleep deprivation talking, but I a bit emotionally “fragile” these days.

To try and get Courtland on a better sleep schedule we’ve been letting her “Cry It Out.” And OMG, I know, my kid is going to develop some horrible personality disorder because I’ve resorted to abandoning her in the crib to weep alone. But guys, desperate times! This has got her sleeping longer periods (once she does finally fall asleep), and she and I are much happier people as a result. However, last night, she was getting pretty damn hysterical as James and I huddled by the door and listened to her try to self-sooth and, well, let’s just say that I haven’t ugly cried like that in a really really long time. It was complete with big guttural sobs. Like a struggling sea lion beating up a hound.

James finally kicked me out of the house, so I drove to Rite Aid and wandered the aisles of the drug store like a lost, wounded puppy. I grabbed a king size bag of M&Ms and nearly devoured all of its contents before getting word that the baby was quiet and asleep and that I was allowed to come home.

Today, I’ll be working from home. So less drama. We can only hope.

Except Ursa goes in for an x-ray tomorrow to see if she has either A. arthritis or B. bone cancer, so the chances I’ll heave cry into her hurt shoulder are fairly high.

Stability, my other middle name. Now look at pictures of that baby. Then perhaps you can understand my distress in leaving that button nose and auburn ‘hawk.

And then she swallowed her whole.

Babies do smell delicious. I understand the impulse.

I’ll let the photos do the talking.

James thinks he is so clever blocking the light from Courtland with his hat.

His stinky, sweaty, never-laundered hat.

Ick.

Admittedly, she’s too little to mind. Poor thing.

This morning, James walks into the bedroom to find Sunny, Courtland and me curled up on the bed together.

Him: Ah. My women. *said in a tone as chauvinistic and brash as possible*
Me: Really?
Him: How about, “My possessions.” *same tone as previous statement*
Me: You really find yourself hysterical, don’t you?
Him: One day you each will fetch a hefty price at market.

Some things don’t change. Like James’ ability to crack himself the F up and my subsequent eye rolling. I’m peeling my eyeballs from the ceiling now.

To pass the time awaiting The Sesame Seed’s arrival, we’ve borrowed a Nikon D90 and a 18-250mm lens. We’re hoping to purchase a similar lens (the Tamron 18-270mm) for our Canon Rebel XTi, so we thought giving her a test drive wasn’t a shabby idea. Our only issue? Sunny is highly frustrated that this camera is always pointed at her. She wants to be behind the lens.

NO SMILE, MOMMY. HOLD IT!

Yeah, I don’t think so kid. Not with equipment this expensive.

Their baby blues couldn’t handle the bright.

Yesterday, a series of packages from Sunny’s Ghillie and Ranger (James’ parents) arrived.

CHRISTMAS IN JULY!

The gifts are to help us pass the time as we wait for the arrival of The Sesame Seed. We decided that we would ration out opening these presents, so that each day Addison would have a little something to look forward to. Such a fun idea.

After she’d opened yesterday’s present, she immediately began demanding to open the rest.

I want to open the blue one. Open the lady bug present, Mommy. I want to open them.

James explained that we would open just one a day. He said, “We’ll open one a day until Courtland arrives. These are to help us wait until we meet baby sister Courtland. Isn’t that fun?”

Sunny screamed, turned, and ran wailing into her room, crying out, “NOOOoOooO! MY NAME! MY NAME!”

We found her flung across her toddler bed, sobbing dramatically into her pillow. And I had a glimpse at life 12 years from now.

Also, what the future months hold as our only child adjusts to life as a sibling.

Ah, the inevitable resistance to relinquishing one’s status as the center of the universe. Drama indeed.

*Sunny throws tennis ball high in air*

Her: OH. MY. GOD!

James: Oh my goodness!

Her: No. OH. MY. GOD!

James: Oh my gosh!

Her: NO! *exceedingly more annoyed* OH. MY. GOOOOOD!

James: Hey, look at the kitty!

Yeah, so there’s that.