This morning after Tristan and I both looked like we had been hit by a Mack truck (due to our finally getting some sleep starting at 3:30 a.m.) I announced that I had a scout meeting at 10:00. He said, "Honey, I think you have a get out of meetings-free card. You have a one week old. We need to put a sign on our door that says, "Pardon our dust, we are remodeling our lives...". But the good news is that during the remodel things looks messy, but the result is always something beautiful!
Ok, Ok. I admit. We are in survival mode. If we have something to eat and semi-clean clothes that would be a sucessful day around here for now.
And falling into the not so helpful category....
I called the lactation specialist on Wednesday morning during the height of the crisis, right? So last night (Saturday night) and 9:00 p.m. I am holding Capri and watching TV when the phone rings. Tristan and I are too tired to run upstairs to get it, but lo and behold the lactation specialist is calling me back. Ok, a breastfeeding problem usually isn't one that can wait a few days if you know what I mean. Maybe if I was calling a seamstress to see when she could sew on a button on a old shirt that would be Ok.
But we weren't exactly sitting around waiting for her to call to see to help solve our problem. After that many days most people would have either figured it out or given up. Thanks anyway for the call! :) (I'm not bitter. I'm really not. I'm just glad she figured it out. Or am I? Ha Ha)