In the Middle of the Night

Last night was another one of those nights where my job requires me to go and walk around campus until 10:30 at night to make sure that all the children are neatly tucked into bed.  This is a tedious task, and I hate it.  It was made particularly miserable last night by the snowstorm.

This also meant that it took an unconscionably long time to drive home, and then I had to pump and wind down and what have you, so I didn't get to bed until just before midnight.  I had just drifted off to sleep when the baby awoke.

So I dragged myself out of bed, muttering grumpily to myself.

And I went in and picked him up and snuggled him, all the while imagining the warm fluffiness of my bed, and being irritated that I was not in bed.

And then I looked at him.

It's not a good picture, because it was dark in the room and so I had to use a flash, and then the light made him flinch, but he was very, very sweet.

And then I wasn't so annoyed.  We're going to leave aside the gushing about how this is a fleeting phase, and that someday I will miss snuggling my face into the back of his head, and just note that I got less irritated.

I mean, I didn't get enough sleep, because at 5 am people started calling and texting about school closures (Margaret's was closed, mine wasn't, Ellie's wasn't, but she decided that if Margaret didn't have to go to school she didn't either), and so I'm annoyed about that, but my annoyance is directed away from Will.