Here we are. It's Friday, and the weekend is upon us. It's been fun to see Kyle put a tie on everyday.
But let's be honest: I'm tired.
I shouldn't complain because most parents of young children are sleep deprived (like my friend who got in on the passenger side of her car yesterday and waited and waited until her 3 year old offered to drive). But you sort of adapt to what your normal is.
This is my new normal. I have not adapted. I'm not very fond of it yet.
In preparation for what I knew would be a rough morning, I preemptively made my bed today. I make it everyday, but this morning I knew that it would give me pause - it looks so pretty when it's made - before I let Dora babysit and catch a few more precious minutes of sleep.
Instead of curling up with my head gently resting on my pillow basking in the peace of dear-to-my heart sleep, I'm disgruntledly - is that a word? - how do you pronounce it: dis-gruntle-ed-ly? disgruntled-ly - whatever. I'm bitterly hanging on to my coffee mug for dear life, wondering: Why did I sabbotage myself like this?