Quack Quack

I'm convinced the neighbors think I'm torturing my kid. I'm not. He's overtired, cranky and not falling asleep. I've done all I can with my bag of tricks (I mean my boobs) and now he's just gotta cry a bit. And it is the worst thing ever. I never like to let him cry. It hurts worse than if someone amputated my arm. But I'm at home alone and I have to walk away for 5 minutes and collect myself. And, honestly, what makes it worse is that I live in an apartment building as opposed to a single family home where we would have more privacy. I would still feel horrible about letting him cry but I wouldn't worry about the police showing up at my door in a few moments to haul my little baby away from me.

And now two random L.A. sightings--

1. I know where "Duck" lives. He's a character on Mad Men and has been a bunch of other characters on other shows like Desperate Housewives and Castle. Well he lives down the street from the Pilates studio I go to. For some reason I'm very excited about this revelation. I like him.
2. A man was shopping in the grocery store today wearing his pajamas and a terry cloth robe. It was the most ridiculous thing ever. Of course, my first thought was, Can I do this too? If it is an accepted behavior here in L.A. then I will gladly follow suit. Judging the reactions he got from other shoppers though I think I'll have to keep putting day time clothes on. Booooo.

The Boy just went quiet. I'm always convinced it's for no more than 2 minutes so I better go pee and then prepare for my next plan of attack. Beyond glamorama here I know but I'm happy this is my life. He may not like to go to sleep but he's the best thing ever.