Ugh. Homeownership really seems to be about swimming for your life against the tide of decay and destruction. We had the place sprayed yesterday for carpenter ants. The termite erradication began last Saturday. I know its purely psychosomatic, but I am itchy and feel like there are ants crawling on me. Yuck.
Boyo has been turning into an unfortunately nocturnal creature of late. He was so active Tuesday night that we had to give up entirely on him falling asleep and bring him back downstairs to the living room to exhaust himself in play. Not my idea of what life at 2 a.m. is supposed to look like. Last night he stubbornly held on to consciousness until after 1 a.m., but at least he wasn't body slamming me, climbing me, hitting, pinching, and pulling my hair like he was the night before...
He only does this to me. He plays nice with everyone else, but he routinely whales on me. I am his freaking trampoline. I am not proud of how annoyed it made me at 2 a.m. Visions of boy velcroed to wall danced in her head... Instead, we went downstairs and he played with his trucks while his daddy and I attempted to remain at least partially awake and watchful.
Finally, around 3:30, he looked a bit sleepy, and by 4 a.m., we were all out. Phew. The only redeeming quality about his timing was that Daddy had yesterday off because of the exterminator, so he didn't have to attempt to fuction at work on two hours sleep.
Sometimes art is a sanity saving device...
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