Maybe I am.
Last night about 1:30am my son woke up with the most blood curdling shrieking/screaming I have ever heard in my entire life (I swear). Lately he has been waking up sounding like an air raid siren (which I've been getting used to). I have no idea what the hell this sounds like, it defies discription. First, I had just gone to bed about an hour and a half before (stupid STUPID girl) and must have immediately hit a very deep stage of sleep because I was sooo very confused. He didn't want to nurse, he didn't want to be calmed down, he just wanted to scream like we were killing him. Second (there must be a second, cause I said there was a first), I was still dreaming when I woke up and I couldn't figure out where I was (thought I was on an airplane and that Nate was screaming because of something that happened in my dream--also later I dreamed that humanity was wiped out by some kind of bio weapon and there were only like 10 people left in the world). Third, in all this trying to calm Nate down, he squirmed and kicked and I managed to injure my wrist so badly that I ended up almost in tears trying to hold on to him (this was the good wrist, the one not already in a splint). We still have no idea why he started shrieking nor why he stopped.
So I woke up this morning really cranky and grumpy and mad at the world. I was annoyed with everyone (except for Nate, oddly), spent a really huffy hour cleaning the kitchen grumbling all the while (why can't people wipe off counters?), and finally came upstairs and had a good freakin cry (one of those snotty, puffy not movie attractive at all kinds of crying jags).
Then I promptly packed up my partner and son and went shopping (Metrotown is having a sidewalk sale and there are lots of good deals on baby clothes).
Retail therapy is good.
Headline: "Woman saved from psychotic break by Old Navy monkey T-shirt."
A deal, a steal at $5.99.
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