Keeghan had part 2 of his flu shot on Monday. I know this because 1. I was there and 2. He’s in his crib for the first time since. He reacts to shots the same way he does to anything that makes him feel not-so-good. He wants to sleep constantly, but only on me. Well, or Raba. Who, in case you are wondering, isn’t here.

Yesterday evening I set off a horrific chain of events when I foolishly (SO SO FOOLISHLY) tried to put Keeghan in his crib after he’d been sleeping on me for two hours so I could read to Ian, who had sweetly (SO SO SWEETLY) asked me to please read to him in his room and who really, really did deserve a little Mommy time. Keeghan woke up.

He STAYED awake, yawning and rubbing his eyes and failing to succumb to every known non-brain-damaging baby soothing technique, for five hours. Which really is probably a new record. Is there an English word for being so tired you’re staggering around bumping into walls on hands and knees? Because that’s what was going on by the time he finally fell asleep.

“whew, thought mama, now *I* can go to bed.”

The next thing I knew, I woke up with a start and grabbed for the baby. (I’ve been doing that a lot in the chair in his room. Every time he squirms.) right there, sound asleep. In bed with me. The fearful racket was Ian, falling out on the other side. I heard Michael softly and gently urge him back to his own room. And then I don’t remember anything until it all happened again.

Today is going to be a shining example of why Nursing Mothers Really Do Consume Caffeine. And we’re having a little meeting on the subject of Bedtime Is At Seven PM. There will be a memo.