Sleep Deprivation Fall-out

I have no pictures today because I haven't set up my new camera and the old camera finally ground to a halt. Literally. I tried to turn it on and this it what it said: "Oh, you want me to work, do you? That's amusing considering the years of abuse I've put up with. Well, you've got another thing coming. For instance, this: wheeeeeeeeeooooooooooooooorrrrrrrreh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh- ckrck-ckrck-ckrck-ckrck." Then, it expired. It was good while it lasted, but duct tape and rubberbands can only do so much. I'm serious. It was difficult getting people in public to take our picture because they were wary of touching our camera. It did look kind of like a bomb, I guess. So, random. Last night a friend of Aaron's came over to borrow a ski jacket. Aaron was going to loan him his old jacket, but I suggested he try on my grandpa's old ski jacket which boasts some sweet colors and tailoring, but it also really really warm. I wore it when it was four degrees outside and I got hot. He was skeptical of the colors at first, but as soon as he put it on it won him over. I thought to check the pockets first to make sure I wasn't loaning him anything too personal, and found an old bank receipt. Dated four years ago exactly. For those of you not impressed by such odd coincidences, what are you doing reading my blog? But for the rest of you(Andrew), I'm glad you're here to share my "I heart Huckabees" moment. It's been a while since I talked about poop. You were hoping I'd say that, weren't you? Well, okay then. So the potty-training is still in process, and one of the more motivating thrills attached to it is to discover the identities of the poops, and how many of them there will be. When he first started using his potty chair, Jack would simply announce the quantity and size. He has since discerned that his poops have actual families, and he gets very excited about certain combinations. The first poop of the day usually goes like this: "Mom! I pooped! It's just a Mama poop, no babies." The following movement, thusly: "Mom! I pooped! It's a lot of babies, no Mama!" But the most exciting production goes like this: "Mom! I pooped! Come see, it's a Mama one and a Daddy one and babies!!" He also has a flushing ritual. The poop, whoever they be, always addresses the poops that have gone before, by saying "Wait for me little poops!" Today, before beseeching his fecal predecessors to wait for him, he told me that the poop family he'd just produced was "cuddling." What can I say, the kid really likes families. Again, for those of you grossed out by this sort of thing, what are you doing reading my blog? Okay, that was a lot of poop talk. Perhaps some explanation is in order. I'm tired. Very tired. Inhumanly, impossibly, torturously tired. Matteas has developed a little ritual where he falls asleep around nine or ten, only to awake two hours later bright-eyed and ready to party until two or three in the morning, during which time he demands stimulating conversation. All this fellowship has really worn me out, and last night was particularly rough. He stayed up until three a.m., woke often to nurse after that, then Aaron's alarm when off at six a.m. not once, not twice, but three times. Then eight o'clock rolled around and Jack was suddenly in my bed, fidgeting. Very close to me. Almost on top of me. Waking up Matteas. I nursed Matteas and tried to whisper Jack back to sleep, but he was hold still just long enough for Matteas to start to drift and then commence fidgeting again, re-waking Matteas. After three or four rounds of that fun, Matteas gagged on some nasal drip left from his cold and barfed down the front of my shirt. A lot. So I gave up and cried a little, then walked into the bathroom and ripped the towel bar from the wall in protest of the futility that is my drive to sleep. I have dark circles under my dark circles. I average 3-5 very broken hours of sleep a night, and this has been going on for almost two weeks. So if my spelling is bad, my grammar incorrect, or the content of my posts just plain inappropriate, just know that I'm too tired to fix it or care.