Last night was very, very rough. After a clearly too-good-to-be-true day of a calm, placid, very chilled out Lily, the evening turned into one long and epic quest to get her to go to sleep. She hadn't napped much during the day--just watched the world go by, so she was very tired by 8 PM. But she just wouldn't go to sleep. She lay there chewing violently on her pacifier. Every time I tried to nurse her she started wailing after a few gulps, clearly just tired.
Yet she wouldn't sleep no matter the tricks we tried. Even the trusty blow dryer failed us.
So, after realizing more fully what my mother tried to scare into me as a teenager--namely that the result of sex can be an actual child--I've asked my husband if we can just be friends. (He had some snarky remarks about how he's not sure that he can tell the difference of late anyway, but he can start his own blog if he wants a fair hearing.)