The Witching Hour And Also Good Bye to my Twenties

This post is about two totally unrelated things, as you may have gathered from the title. Well, I guess they are united in their awfulness, but it's different levels of awful, you know?

First of all, Jack screams bloody murder from 7 pm until 10 pm EVERY. NIGHT. Don't worry. Moxie assures me it is the witching hour, which he will outgrow -- WHEN????--and is common in newborns around the globe.

Yeah. Well, it sucks. And you know Ben and me-- we're not totally awesome under pressure, especially since Jack turns into a squalling beastie baby during the busiest time of our night: the post-dinner, pre-bed rush. The time when we're doing all the little things we do everyday to make sure the house doesn't fall down around our ears: mopping the floor, vacuuming the upstairs, the stairs, the landings, the rugs, and the laundry room, folding laundry, wiping fingerprints off windows, mirrors, and doors, making tomorrow's coffee so all we have to do at the crack of dawn is jab a button with our sleepy fingers (or not-- sometimes we even set the timer). Anyway-- very crucial tasks all. Not to mention Harry's sacred nighttime routine, which requires participation from both of us and is not made smoother by the addition of an angry red-faced infant. (And speaking of that infant-- he'll be screaming and screaming, his little face a mask of tragedy, and we'll be seriously close to laying him in his pack and play and walking away when he opens his big, blue, lashless eyes and looks SO SAD and plaintive that we melt into puddles of coos and kisses and redouble our efforts to make him happy-- which is stupid because between 7 and 10 NOTHING MAKES HIM HAPPY).

So what do we do?

We turn on each other, of course. Last night, I even began an angry, whiny sentence with the phrase, "I was so pissed at you last week," and got mad all over again because of a late delivery of Harry's nightly tooth brush (that he requests bedside at the same time every night) that literally happened on Wednesday. Clearly, we're not rational. Last night, I also re-vacuumed the upstairs after Ben had already done it because I spotted one tiny stray piece of lint outside the bathroom door. Oh-- and I did this cleaning cussing under my breath and wearing my sobbing infant-- so, I did it graciously. I am a treasure, let me tell you.

Our goal for today? Remember that we are on the same team and be prepared. I have already done and put away 3 loads of laundry, and when Harry wakes up from nap, I am going to vacuum, so check those off the evening list.

Now the second bit: I TURN 30 TOMORROW! We did a little early celebrating this weekend-- and Ben and Jerry sure do know their way around an ice cream cake.

Here I am marveling at the huge fire

Blowing my candles out in one ragged, aging breath

Lately, Harry has been enjoying some really healthy snacks