It is now 4:35 am.
While my heavy eyelids are telling me to get some sleep, the rest of my body simply refuse to co-operate, with the main culprit being the brain.
Other than that, the rest of tonight has been progressing quite typically so far.
Typical is briefly defined as follows ever since the grand arrival of Junior.
Needless to say, the 2 to 3 hourly feeding is enough to drive any sleep-deprived mother insane. On top of that, I am usually treated to the "Tang Symphony No.9" with Junior whining or wailing on my left and The Man snoring on my right. Not sure if it is in D minor or C major but it does vary a little from time to time. I must say they do a pretty good job synchronising without a conductor.
The feeding can sometimes be tranquil with both Junior and myself dozing and nodding off to dreamland unconsciously for a few seconds only to realise we have unfinished business on hand.
At other times, feeding can get into an intense physical and verbal battle with Junior's knees and elbows all over my bruised body while I struggle to adjust myself to yet another awkward position which I would later regret.
As if that is not enough, there is also the occasional pooping event. Junior somehow prefers to do his mega poop during the night before, during or after his feed. In fact, "prefers" is an understatement because I believe to a certain extent it is some sort of conspiracy especially when it is followed by pee or even more poop while a new diaper is still being put on. Trust me, the sight of his whole bum smeared with **** and watching the live action of more **** flowing out like a fountain is definitely not for the faint-hearted.
So these days when The Man and I wish each other Good Night at bedtime, it no longer holds the same meaning as before. I think a more appropriate thing to say would be Good Luck.
It is now almost 5am.
By now, my brain is finally convinced that some sleep, however little, is required before Part II begins... let me see... in about an hour's time maybe.
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