Morning, file under semi-chaotic

4:30 am—wake up to baby crying,
4:31 am—crying stops, will she go back to sleep? Can I have a few more minutes of sleep under my warm, snuggly blanket?
4:32 am—no.
4:33 am—Sweet jesus it is frikin COLD in this house! What the @#$! Is going on? Digging under the bed for some slippers.
4:34 am—Get baby out of crib and find that instead of fingers, she has little baby icicles growing from her hands. Go downstairs and check the temp on the thermostat. Find it is a whopping 58 degrees in the house. Venture down to the basement (with the crying baby) and see that the switch to the furnace has been flipped off, again.
We have one of two things going on here. Either A) we have a ghost in our house that prefers the temperature to be rather chilly or B) the cat has found a new way to torture us for bringing a crying baby into the house. Flip the switch back on, furnace fires up and I say a little prayer of thanks that we won’t have to shell out 200 bucks for a heating repairman. (Oh, and incase you’re wondering, the baby is still crying).

4:38 am—fix baby bottle and curl up on the couch to feed her.
4:50 am—baby done with bottle, she snuggles up next to me and starts to fall asleep.
5:00 am—take baby up to nursery and attempt to lay her back in her crib, and looking forward to curling back into bed for another 30 minutes because it is still pretty damn cold in this house.
5:01 am—SCREAMING!
5:02 am—Bouncing baby back to sleep
5:05 am—baby goes back in crib
5:06 am—SCREAMING!
(Repeat above for the next 30 minutes)
5:34 am—Mumbling from bedroom “Is everything okay, what’s wrong with baby?”
Screaming from nursery: “I DON’T KNOW, she just.keeps.crying.”
Mumbling from bedroom: “Do you need some help.”
Screaming from nursery: “yes.”

5:45 am—baby and hubby curled up on couch, both sleeping soundly. I go take my shower in peace and get everything ready for the day. Thankfully the temperature in house is gradually making its way back up.

Some mornings are predictable and nice. Others are completely chaotic. I guess it would be considered boring if there wasn’t a little chaos thrown in the mix every so often. Now, to figure out how to keep the cat from playing freeze-out with us at least once a week because I really don’t want to have to hire a ghost hunter, that’s just creepy.