I will never update this blog again. Arlo will not sleep unless I wear him or lie with him for a nap. WITH a boob in his mouth. Otherwise he wakes. Immediately. And this is if we are alone. Henry is a wonderful older brother, full of energy and enthusiasm. Arlo is completely captivated. Good and bad, I guess. This means day 1 of spring break Arlo woke up at 6a (Adjusted time – otherwise it would be 5! And guess which one I’m still on?) and napped a total of maybe 30 minutes today. It’s now 7p and he’s completely wired and won’t go to sleep. He’s on my back now while I bounce on the birth ball because I just gave up after trying to nurse him down for an hour in my bed.
What the fuck am I going to do this summer?! Arlo is almost 6 months and I still feel like I need a full-time house cleaner, cook, and sitter for each child. We’re going to start with sitter and house cleaner. I’ll do some camp. I want Henry to have a free and easy, unstructured summer.
This is by far the hardest job I’ve ever had. My most balls-out moment as a publicist was negotiating an exclusivity contract for an author and authority on Pope John Paul II’s death with a couple of VPs at CBS at their studios in west Manhattan. I learned later that that was a pretty dumb move as a publicist. But that’s not the only reason I want to smack 28-year-old Jojo in the face.