Positively... Tired.

Today is a hard day. This month has been a difficult month.That's why I started the Positively Charged series, but this post is not one of those, it is the antithesis. I'm sorry if it comes off as complaining and whiny... it is complaining and it is whining, but I think we each should be able to vent without fear of judgment at least once in a while... and who knows, maybe letting it out will help figure out solutions. Here's hoping.

Keats is still battling it out when it comes to sleeping in his crib for naptime and bedtime. He just wants to keep playing. For eleven nights in a row he has stayed up till at least nine. He has had several nights when he wakes up around three or four determined to sleep with us in bed for the rest of the night. That can't, and hasn't happened. For eleven mornings his late nights have not meant that he's slept in. He wakes up between six-thirty and seven. For seven of those eleven days, he hasn't had a nap.

Frida wakes up and is fed and changed at ten-thirty, midnight, two, three, and then is up for good at five. She goes back to sleep at eight or nine.

Keats fell and hit his lip on a chair last night, busting it open. At two this morning he fell out of his bed, presumably to retrieve his blanket which he had kicked off. His bed has a small railing to keep this from happening, but it doesn't always work and I believe the mattress is still too high to be safe from falls.

All of this means I have slept an average of four hours a night for about two weeks. Birch gets an average of six.

All of that no-sleeping means Birch and I are both clinging to each particle of patience we possess for our children and therefore get into little mini fights throughout the day, straining our relationship and making us feel bad about ourselves. There are a lot of apologies flying around our house these days.

Both kids have been sick since last Tuesday.

Keats has decided that pouring liquids anywhere and everywhere is hilarious.

I can't remember the last time Birch and I were on a date, just us. We missed my birthday date first because we forgot (!) and then we missed the postponed date because we were sick. It may be postponed until Valentine's Day.

I have three shirts and one pair of pants that fit, aren't stained, and make me feel good about how I look.

The chickens have not re-accepted the bantam Old English Game hen and so she is living inside until we can fix her up with something better. She is lonely.

Birch let the chickens out this morning and noticed Harlequin behaving strangely. He is hobbling around, unable to use his back legs and listing to the side when he's still. Birch had to leave for work and I don't have a car yet so I can't take him to the vet. Harlequin is a Netherland Dwarf rabbit and is four years old. I'm doubtful that he'll make it till Birch gets back home.

Harlequin chowing down on some winter snacks.

Keats (age: 10 months) getting to know our Harlequin.

Here's hoping that Popeye (Keats' new favorite video... so inappropriate), lots of cups of cocoa and tea, and some sunny weather will help to flip this day upside down and make us smile. More importantly, I hope Harlequin's suffering doesn't last long. Every time I look at him I start sobbing. I love you, Harlequin Bunny. I promise you a million treats and a new run if you make it till we can take you to the vet. I love you, you bravest of all tiny things. You have never been afraid of Olive or any dog, you love living outside, you love being pet and scratched though you hate being picked up, and you are ravenous for food just like everyone else in this house. You are family, little guy. I love you. Get better, please.