I shouldn’t write about it, but this past week, Merrick has not been waking me up at night. I can’t say whether or not he’s been sleeping, though; the only reason I’m feeling so rested is that I’ve been downing a glass of wine (or 2) before bed and unplugging the baby monitor.
And you know what? He hasn’t thrown himself over the side of the crib, or choked on his own vomit, or suffocated under his teddy bear. He wakes up smiling instead of screaming every morning, and he indulges in a long nap in the afternoons. He must be logging in 12 to 15 hours worth of sleep every day. So, even though it goes against every motherly instinct I have, completely ignoring my kid at night is really working for me–for both of us.
We’re trying to cut off our house phone since we don’t really use it. But to have our internet connection switched over to Caleb’s office phone line, we’ll be charged a $70 fee–thus costing us even more money than 2 months’ worth of phone bills–all of this just to save us a mere $31 a month. Worth it? Maybe only after May, at which time we might be completely able to afford the house line anyway. Stupid phone company.
I’ve been thinking about tattoos. My sister has one of a key on her wrist–her boyfriend has a heart with a lock with it on his chest (all together now: "Awwww." Gag me). Caleb doesn’t have any tattoos. At one time we thought we’d get matching dice tattoos if we were ever to take a trip to Vegas, but that seemed kind of lame. Then we thought maybe shamrocks on our hands would look cool if we went to Ireland together…but that was before I read up on prison tattoos and found that shamrocks stand for white supremacy in certain prison circles, and that is one tattoo that I, for one, would not want, should I wind up in prison one day. So. A red, white and blue skull on my calf? A big, honkin’ bloody rose wrapped around the sword of truth on my back? A couple teardrops on my cheek? A cheeseburger on my ass? Suggestions? Thoughts?