I slept eleven hours yesterday.  My parents came down on Saturday to see the little angel and to give my beloved and I a chance to go drown our sorrows and play darts at Lew's down the street, but I fell asleep on the floor of the little angel's bedroom while putting her down on Saturday night.  After sleeping there for 45 minutes, I was unprepared to face fun with pillow creases on my forehead.  We ended up sitting downstairs and watching some reality cops show instead.  Ah, the romance.

Ma took angel duty in the morning, and I slept from 11:30 until 9 a.m.  After they left, the little angel fell asleep for three hours.  At hour two, I tried desperately to wake her up, but she wasn't having it.  I know that when she naps longer than an hour and a half, it's going to be bad news at night, but I couldn't get her to wake up, and I ended up falling asleep with her on the couch for another hour. 

We put her to bed around 8:30.  My beloved started trying to put her to bed at 8, then I had to take over at 8:30 so that I could work my magic in time for my favorite show in the whole wide world, Grey's Anatomy.  I want to see what happens with Addison and Mark, dammit!  I finally got her down just in time and rushed down to immerse myself in someone else's drama, knowing that I would be paying the piper later.  Sure enough,the little angel woke up at midnight complaining of a poopy and sore teeth. After I fixed both of those problems, she climbed over me to play.  She wanted to change the diapers on all of her stuffed animals, even Elmo, who can barely fit in a size 6.

This diapering-the-animals thing has been going on for about two weeks.  She tells us now when she needs to go poopy.  She is probably ready to be potty trained.  But I, Prudence's mother, am unprepared to face the challenge in the dead of winter, what with all of those snaps and zippers and such. I'm waiting for warmer weather and fewer items of clothing.  Until then, I, Prudence's mother, will keep changing her.  (Does anyone but me wonder why the narrator in this book feels obligated to keep clarifying who "I" is?  Hasn't she already established she's the narrator?  Is this for the child or the sleep-deprived parent?  One wonders.)

So anyway, when she started insisting on a diaper change for Red Bear, I took her down to the couch.  The child drank three cups of milk from midnight to three a.m., when she finally, FINALLY conked out.  I knew I was in trouble at 7 when I felt her crawl out from under the nice, warm, soft blankie and demand, "Mommy, wake up."

ARGH.  I, Prudence's mother, need a nap.