They Hate Me

I am convinced that my kids hate me. They are conspiring against me and they're only four and one. I can't imagine what it's going be like when there are three of them.

As Ryan can attest, I am not a morning person. Plain and simple. While I prefer nine hours of sleep, I can live with eight hours in order to function the next day. And now that I've been taking my morning sickness cocktail, half of which is a sleeping pill, I REALLY need eight hours so that I'm not staggering around in a stupor for several hours in the morning.

Well, my son decided to wake up at 5:30 this morning. Ryan gave him his bottle and we expected him to fall back asleep as usual. Nope. The boy was up for the day. And not only was he awake, he was jumping up and down in his crib. Did I mention that his crib is still one foot from our bed? And it has squeaky springs?

So Ryan got up to get ready for work and Sydney decided that 6:15 would be her wake up time this morning. And since today is one of Ryan's "early days" at work (get there early, leave kinda early), I had to get up. Grogginess and crankiness ensued for a good two hours. Frankly, Sydney is lucky that she got to go to school.

I seriously think the two of them have some kind of secret kid language and they spent the better portion of yesterday evening planning this. And tonight I'm going to keep them in separate rooms all evening so that they can't plan something even worse, like replacing my stash of chocolate with carob or something equally nasty.