In the past couple of days my only “me” time has been 10 or 15 minutes here and there of playing computer Mah Jong. I love this game, even when it bores me. But I’ve stared at the tiles so much during my daze of exhaustion that they no longer make sense to me. Try matching up tiles when you’re sleep deprived and your body’s tense, waiting for a crab-apple baby to start fussing again.
Well the good news is, my efforts to unconstipate her worked. The bad news is, they worked a little too well if you get my drift. Right now she’s lying on my bed, grunting like a little old man. She grunts all the time. This is the most grunting baby I’ve known. Trouble is, it’s hard distinguishing her false alarm grunts from her I-need-something-now grunts. So I’m ignoring her for the time it takes to write this. I just know if I get up to feed her, I’ll find her fast asleep, looking as innocent as all get out. So I’m ignoring her. It’s nothing personal. Should she begin wailing in earnest, I’m right here, nana-on-the-spot. Until then, my motto shall be, “All grunts will be soundly disregarded unless presented in a convincing manner.” Grunting, from this point on, must lead to out and out crying, or Nana’s staying put, finger to keys, staring stupidly at Mah Jong tiles until her head spins.
I only have till midnight tonight, then I’m free once again. Free to sleep without interruptions. Free to . . . oh shoot, that was no ordinary grunt. And here’s the cries in earnest. Gotta run.