Chad and I went to a Valentine's Day party last weekend. Chad was adorable, and charming, and I was happy to be basking in his presence, without the presence of our boys.
This pleasant evening was overshadowed by the rest of the weekend.
Chad could not do anything right around the house. The kids were especially loud and whiney, and their elbows and knees were especially sharp and belly-seeking. I was snapping, yelling, crying and complaining in utter frustration at the annoyances that surrounded me.
After a couple days of wondering what was wrong with everyone else, I broke down in tears on Sunday night and admitted to an ever-patient Chad that it really was me that was the problem. Then just as I uttered that admittance, a calm settled on me and a thought very clearly came into my head,
"You need some sleep."
I didn't feel that sleepy, but I had spent the week training Oliver to sleep in his own bed all night, which meant getting up four or five times each night. Saturday night was a late one, spent at the party, and top those factors off with regular doses of pregnancy insomnia, and yeah, of course I an irrational mess.
It was 8 o'clock, I didn't feel tired, but to bed I went, and awoke a brand new woman, in very clean house (thanks to Chad.)