A few days ago, I made moussaka of the Gods, the labor-intensive recipe for which I shall post below, in a desire to share with you, friends in the computer, something other than a litany of my ongoing physical woes. To wit
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In anticipation of the four horsemen of the apocalypse neices and nephews descending upon us next week, I agreed to help Z go buy presents for them. And as it turns out the pitfalls and assorted hells of braving IKEA on the weekend is nothing in comparison to winding up stranded in Toys'R'Us an hour before your boss's funarel
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Yesterday was a horrible day. Matei screamed for about 5 hours solid (I think it's teeth again) and refused to sleep unless I was holding him and WOULD NOT BE PUT DOWN. I currently have a sprained muscle in my shoulder from catering to that demand, so you can imagine how much I'm looking forward to carrying him around today
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There are bad days. Bad days involve little sleep and a lot of screamings (of which a percentage is generated by me, a few hours in). On bad days I get so frustrated I end up punching sofa cushions and chanting things like: "Why do you hate me, why?" and telling my pre-verbal baby how cross I feel
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The baby is lovely and I am in love with him (except between the hours of 3-7am when my feelings can be significantly more colourful and interwoven with things like anger/irritation/resentment) because you know, the fact that he doesn't sleep on command is clearly a sign of a malign intelligence working to persecute me.
The parenting gig is still crazy but Z and I are settling nicely into it which is not to say that we actually know what we're doing but we're figuring it out as we go and everyone involved is pretty laid back
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