Yesterday, I was up with the baby from about 4-5 am--this seems to be a preferred time she likes to be up...I'm trying to get her to be up from 5-6, because then *I* don't feel like I've been hit by a bus. For some reason, 4 in the morning is a HARSH hour for me...ugh. To keep from waking up the entire family, I often take Miss Q into our "guest" bedroom and watch whatever shows are on while we nurse or pace or change diapers or just try to keep quiet. Sunday morning, at 4, there aren't many options, even with satellite, so we end up zipping through lots of infomercials and what I like to call Hallelujah shows. I think I ended up watching "The Practice" on TNT for a while, kinda dozing on and off while Miss Q ate.
Anyway, so around 5, Super J comes in to check in on us. He looks really tired. Miss Q is almost asleep by this time and once she conks out, I say to him that we should go back to bed. He tells me he'll be in, in a little while. I'm vaguely aware when he comes in and heads off to take a shower.
Long story short, around 8:36 he comes into our bedroom wearing jeans and a work shirt. I ask him, "Are you staying home with me? Aren't you going to church?" He looks at me like I've just pinched him hard on the arm for no good reason. Then he looks at his watch and then back at me.
"Oh my gosh!" he says. "I thought today was Monday. I've totally spent the morning getting ready to go to work while getting breakfast for the girls and wondering how I'm going to get shipments out on time! If you hadn't said anything, I was going to drive straight to the office."
Bless his heart. He ended up taking Miss E and O to church with him, but he was off for the rest of the day, as you can well imagine. And I thought I was a bit stressed and tired. lol.