The somnambulist

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I fell into a med-induced stupor and something deep and primal inside screamed something was wrong.

I awoke just in time to see the baby escaping the child safety gate and heading upstairs.

Scary.

So apparently the meds not only amp up my b@&$! factor, but they turn me into a zombie. Thank God the kiddo was content to play with her toys all afternoon and (with the exception of the stair incident) stayed out of trouble. The hubby had to work and, to my dismay, the kiddo refused to nap.

Same fatigue attack happened yesterday and angels of mercy (read: blessedly kind friends) took the kiddo to the splash park so I could rest.

Today I was flying solo and feeling it.

Was sooo happy when we finally were able to pick daddy up from work and treat him to a Father’s Day dinner.

The kiddo’s present?
A sweet homemade card.
Oh yeah, and a leaky poopy diaper that the dog tried to eat. I hauled myself off the couch and out from under my heating pad to help daddy clean up the mess and hose the baby off in the shower.

Remind me why we’re going for number two…baby that is not more poop.

Oh yes, because when they smile up at you it’s like being offered a glimpse of heaven. There is no sweeter sound than their laughter and no greater peace than their slumber.

Think I’ll have sweet dreams tonight.

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About domesticpolichick

My life is a crazy jumble of sitcom-level domestic hijinks and fast-paced political reporting in the nation's capital. Breastfeeding while doing a phone interview with a senator...yep, I've done it and no, I won't reveal the name. Toddler calling a member of Congress on the cell..yeah, that really did happen. Pregnant in high heels on Capitol Hill trying to chase down a particularly grumpy senator, yeah...that was nuts. But what can I say? I'm just one domestic polichick trying to figure out the work-life balance.
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