Basta!

I'm getting the hang of this sleeping thing. At a certain hour, if you don't put me in bed, I just pass out where I am! See how my legs are bent because my pajamas are too small...

If you go look at this Milano webcam, you can see it is STILL raining here. Apparently we haven't had this much bad summer weather in two centuries. It was so cold here last night that if we could have, we would have turned the heat on (legally, we aren't allowed to use the heat after March 15th or so) and I had to get pajamas Dylan used this past winter out of a box. Being for a 3-month-old, they were too small, of course. I'm also facing a laundry crisis as nothing is getting dry and I can't go ahead with more laundry until I free up my overloaded drying rack, which is currently sporting damp, musty smelling clothing and other articles. Not to get too personal into Dylan's business, but I am changing his sheets and mattress pad every other day. I've done what they say to do - move up to a new diaper size or use two diapers. But we still have some major leakage issues and every morning I go to pick up my smiling and kicking bundle of joy only to find that my welcoming arms are met with moistness. Yes, a baby who eats in the middle of the night also goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night but I still feel like maybe we are doing something wrong. Is there something amiss with our diapering technique? Are we stupid? This morning I flipped out about the bad weather and huge piles of laundry and Cristiano - who was not amused - began saying to Dylan "Now apologize to your mother for peeing the bed again." It's not your fault, pumpkin. Mom and dad apparently can't put on a diaper properly and Mother Nature is not cooperating with sunny weather conducive to drying laundry. Before I had a kid, I was feeling all eco-friendly and fine with not having a dryer. Now I feel like I'm constantly drowning in dirty laundry. That comes out wrinkly on the line. The other day my mother-in-law was here while I was desperately bringing in dry clothes off the line before a storm came in and as she saw me folding bibs and other tiny Dylan essentials, she said "Wow, you fold them before you iron them. You do double the work." I didn't have the heart to tell her that, uh, no, I don't iron anything of Dylan's. Or mine, for that matter. Cristiano takes his stuff to the dry cleaner's.