Why yes, I would like some cheese. And definitely some wine.

This isn't a "mommy" blog. I don't have some grand conclusion that affirms all your hard work or decisions or whatever. I don't have beautifully lit photos of baby shoes or whatever.

I could get you a video of her polka-dot butt rocking around in her crib as she fights a nap.

This is real. This is raw. This is beautiful. This is a sad baby who doesn't like naps.

Basically, I'm just here to gripe.

I'm past the days where I wish I wasn't a parent. I have entered the days of wishing I could take a break. You know, maybe use a vacation day, take the day off, go away for the weekend, or even just have her take an hour and a half nap instead of a forty-five minute nap.

I fantasize about it, about giving her to Grammy for the night, but to be honest, if Genevieve doesn't wake me up by like 03:30, I wake up on my own and worry until she does. So I won't be getting any sleep if I gave her away for the night. Which I've already made pretty much impossible by exclusively breastfeeding anyway (partially a desire to give my baby the best, partially pure laziness cause it's super easy). And if Grammy does take her for a few hours, gradually my mind won't think about anything else until she's back in my arms. Heck, if she's in bed asleep for a few hours before I go to bed, I'm already kind of looking forward to her waking up and nursing her.

Until she actually does wake up, of course. What, it's not even midnight! Seriously, baby!

The past couple of days, she's seemed extra fussy. She'll play with a toy until she gets frustrated and throws a fit and nothing makes her happy except to be carried around bounced. I, of course, try and find the reason. Stomach troubles? Teething? Wonder week? Tired? Or, worst of all, a highly opinionated baby with no attention span who needs to be constantly entertained and will be like this for the rest of her life?

That's about the time I want to check out. Pray about it, is advice, but God is probably getting sick of my "please please please let her take longer than forty-five minute naps." He certainly hasn't done anything about it. Although, she has also lived through every night, so he's answering some.

It's just, this Friday, it's hard to have her scream in my ear and know I have to deal with it. Until nap time. Until bedtime. Until tomorrow. Until next week. Until next month. Until next year. Until high school graduation. I don't get to tap out, I don't get to take the weekend off.

Oh sure, "it gets better" and "this too shall pass," but honestly unless it gets better tomorrow, it might as well be high school graduation for me.

Things have gotten better, way better since the beginning. Dang it brain, I wanted to just complain, why do you have to bring that up?

Whatever. Basic point, Princess Fussbudget is hard to deal with and it's too cold outside to go on walks and I want the weekend off. With whine, wine, and cheese.

Edit: I think her naps are getting shorter.