remind me...

to NEVER go to Vegas.

last night was sheer torture with the Professor. he was held and coddled and sweated up by a myriad of interested visitors all day (ie. he slept his way through the torment, body lotion, deodorant and perfume)...

and was hell on earth last night.

I made it to bed around 1am. he got up at precisely 3:14...and stayed that way until almost 6:30 (I'm guessing. I finally threw in the towel and handed him over to oqui somewhere around daybreak).

he nursed. cooed. pooed. puked. farted. peed. nursed. wailed, etc...

I was all good for the first two hours. he's wicked cute, but when my he pinched my nipple for the 80th time with ice cold, newborn, pincer-grip fingers...I was done.

that shit hurts.

sometime in the wee hours of the morning:

me: that's it! oqui, I'm done!
oqui: hmmmshshsmmmmghghaj?
me: the kid. he's yours. I can't do anything for him. g'night.
oqui: what are the chances he cries it out?
me: (said in a none to friendly tone) NONE!

a nanosecond later the Prof stopped crying.

obviously I'm no good with calculating percentages and am quite the stupendous fool.

good thing he started fussing, again, 4.3 seconds later or I would've lost all street cred.

so I tried to nap amidst tears of pain, frustration and exhaustion, whilst the 'pah tried to quiet the kid without a boob.

eventually we all slept. I even managed to sack in til 10ish (at the expense of o'pah being the walking dead today)...and I got myself a nice warm bath.

amazing how all is well when one no longer smells like baby doodie.

all told, this whole baby deal is pretty damned easy. I'm not anxious, upset, weepy, depressed or even moderately annoyed. he's nursing well. I feel rested and at ease and I'm thinking the nonny is only slightly worse for the wear...

now, if we can just muster up enough money for things like heat, shelter and food and one income...

we'll be all good.