Me-fucking-yow. Sinking back into reality is hard! I’m a bundle of nerves and sleep deprivation and stir-craziness. I dreamed that I fought with Michael and went to live in a hotel with the baby for a week. The strangest part about that is that Michael and I never fight.

Are you laughing yet? So we fight a little. But it’s not go-get-a-hotel-room kind of fighting. Lately my dreams have taken me to some very strange places. I think it’s clear that I’m not adjusting well to the New Life. I say that (that I’m not adjusting well), and then I glance down and Jack is staring at the kitten like it’s a piece of chocolate and all the sudden his face breaks out in a grin and he puts one knee up and oooh! ALMOST crawls toward the cat. How wrong is it that I live for these moments? While other people are out there developing careers and taking their housekeeping skills to new levels, I’m in my pajamas drinking coffee and pondering the logistics of covering the entire floor upstairs with something crawl-friendly and antimicrobial. Is it time for me to find a hobby?

Okay, I also live for naptime when I can bust out Call of Duty 3. I’m practicing so that I can beat my 13 year old someday. Hello, I didn’t realize that getting older (for shit’s sake, I’m only 35!) meant I have to practice everything all the time twice as hard. Seriously? My hand-eye is going already? Along with memory, concentration and my ass? No fair.