So here I am, breaking from work and laundry, chugging Diet Coke and watching the video monitor like a hawk to ensure the blanket stays wrapped around his trunk and not his sweetly innocent little face.
Tired. So, so tired. But accepting of the fact that this is life with a baby, the bad comes with the good, and the good is oh-so-good, so fun, so very rewarding. And as Anderson's future MIL kindly pointed out, I'd be wise to "get used to 20 minute intervals of sleep until Anderson is 13 and you can't get him out of bed before noon." True, true.