That doesn't make it any easier.
We are on day 6 of the Plague, and it has definitely been one of those days. Miles did ok last night, but was still up 3 times before he finally woke up at 8:15. And he woke up with a vengeance. Usually, he wakes up cooing, and will play in his crib for a few minutes while I brush my teeth and prep his bottles, and generally prepare for the day. Not today. Today, he woke up whining, ready to eat immediately. And then took half an hour to eat 2 ounces. He whined and clung to me for almost an hour before finally deciding he was still tired and passing out. When I tried to put him down, he woke up, and I could see him preparing to scream. So, I laid down on the bed with him, and we napped. Which was glorious, I admit. Until he woke me up by screaming that he was starving. Since, you know, he hadn't eaten earlier.
It took me almost an hour to calm him down enough to actually eat. And once I had accomplished this feat, the phone rang. It was important, so I took the call. The lady took forever to tell me what she needed, even though I repeatedly asked her to get to the point, as I had a screaming baby in the background. By the time she finally told me what she needed, and I hung up, Miles was inconsolable again. It took another 45 minutes of bouncing and walking and shushing to get him calm enough to eat, and he sucked down the entire bottle in a matter of minutes.
For fifteen beautiful minutes, Miles played happily on the couch. Until he puked all over himself. When I took him to change him, I discovered he had a dirty diaper that had overflowed to the point that we both needed baths in the end.
So, now, he's taking a little siesta in his swing in the bathroom, and I am sitting here exhausted and ready for bed, even though it's only 2:3o. And I still have work to do. And a house to clean.
And a baby who will be waking up screaming any minute, I'm sure.