Sleep begets sleep and all that

I talk a lot about my kids' sleep habits. At least, I feel like I talk about them a lot.

Charlie loves sleep and only fights bedtimes when she's overtired, which means then she's going to be awake at the ass crack of dawn trying to break down the gate to Cereal Land where she can wreak havoc and mayhem. I'm not usually griping up a storm about the Goober, and really haven't done so since I put my foot down when she was 15 or so months old and forced her to learn how to self-soothe (which is my nice way of saying I broke down from exhaustion and gave into a modified "cry it out" method).

So, when I mention sleep habits these days, usually it's how shitty the sleep habits are and that I'm tired of being held captive in my own bed by the one and only Josie. That kid likes to stay up late no matter how tired she is, and then I'm forced to listen to her rant and rave when I leave the room, or I sit there with her waiting for sleep to take over.

In a diaperless society

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Repeat.

I should be packing up clothes, taking drawers out of emptied dressers, figuring out if that box of papers can be burned or if we need that stuff and making a grocery list of foods to fill my new, heart-stopping awesome refrigerator with because I'm so in love with it and feel it deserves more gifts that a pack of Juicy Juice juice boxes. Poor thing probably feels neglected being all the way over there without anything to chill and freeze yet. Soon, sweet machine, soon.