Cute Overload.

November 1st, 2006: Hooray! NaBloPoMo! This is going to be great!

November 2nd, 2006: Oh my god, I have to post AGAIN? I just posted yesterday! This was a terrible idea. Remind me not to do this next year.

November 1st, 2007:
WHEEE! NaBloPoMo! Let’s get this party started!

November 2nd, 2007: What was I thinking? Never again, mark my words. Jesus, there are still 28 days to go.

November 1st, 2008: On your mark! Get set! POST!

November 2nd, 2008: *Sigh*

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It seems impossible that I am struggling to think of post topics already, what with the election of my lifetime only two days away and Simone’s hearing appointment the day after that. Things are hopping! And yet here I sit, stumped, pecking mulishly at my keyboard.
I blame the fact that I’m coming off of several days of infant misanthropy and sleep aversion rivaling anything I have experienced. Simone’s slumber has been deteriorating since she outgrew the Miracle Blanket, and in the past few days she began sleeping for progressively shorter periods, thus becoming overtired and needing more and more soothing to fall asleep in the first place. Finally she stopped napping altogether, resumed every-two-hour night-waking, and devolved into one long shrieking baby wail that waxed and waned but was always present like a drooly air raid siren clinging to my shoulder. I was so tired and frazzled at one point yesterday that I had to do that thing they tell you about while you are still in the hospital watching the NEVER NEVER SHAKE A BABY video (which seemed ridiculous in our case, as we couldn’t hold Simone, much less shake her), namely that I actually had to plop my crying child in her crib and walk away, leaving the room to count to ten and take deep, slightly hysterical breaths, because I was seconds from screaming at her to SHUT HER STUPID MILK HOLE. And then I cried, because what kind of mother gets angry with a baby? But today, after more of the not-sleeping, I snatched a up a giant quilt-blanket in a moment of desperation, figuring it was too big for Simone to wiggle out of, and bundled the child in it as tightly as I could. And just like that, she slept. FOR SIX HOURS. In fact, she is sleeping now, swaddled and then placed inside a sleepsack to keep the swaddle secure, an idea one of you gave me in the comments.
Her occupational therapist will be disappointed in us, but Simone is obviously not ready to sleep unfettered, as evidenced by the fact that she lost consciousness the SECOND we reswaddled her, as if to say “You dumb fucks, couldn’t you see that this is what I needed all along?” And if this is what Simone needs, then I am going to give it to her for now, age-appropriate or not. You win this time, baby, but note that my flouting of age-appropriateness will not apply to the ensembles you see in the window of JAYLE BAITE! or whatever horrifying, whore-ifying tween emporium is popular in your upcoming heyday.

SOOOOOO, if anyone has any requests for the upcoming fortnights of mandated posting, feel free to send them along. Otherwise you may be in for a tedious (but cute!) four-week-long baby picture death march.