But actually... what is funny about this whole series of events is not that they actually occurred, but how quickly I LOST MY SHIT having to deal with it. Honestly… I felt so completely wretched for the whole night, I couldn’t deal with any of it. Poor Jason had to deal with a blaring baby and a nutcase wife. What happened to the superwoman who woke up 687 times a night to clamp the aforementioned offspring off her boobs? Dare I mention cracked nipples? Seriously? I thought I was made of sterner stuff than this, but behold the evidence: a Twitter account of my nocturnal breakdown:
But not quite self-loathing enough:
Eventually, he ran out of steam at 4:30am after I stroked his head for about half an hour.
Happy New Year, folks. :-)