Sleep wars and a roving bruncher.

There's a war going on in our house, and Finley is winning.

If victory is measured in the dark undereye circles sported by one's adversaries, that is.

The war involves sleeping alone- or rather, Finley's recent aversion to doing so- and has cost me many, many hours of sleep. This latest charming phase has her sleeping until about 3:30 am, and then screaming bloody murder and throwing herself against the bars of her crib when she wakes up and realizes that she is alone. She's stubborn, so this goes on for extended periods of time. I refuse to let her out of her room, but I also think it's cruel to let her scream for hours. So the result is that I have to go sit with her in her room until she falls back asleep.

I think Seth thought this was all kind of amusing until I made him take his turn in the wee hours of this morning, when I finally tapped out. And this is what I discovered when I went to check on them an hour later, on my way out the door. (He's going to kill me for sharing this picture, but it is amazing.)

I think we'll call this one a draw.

We had a pretty nice week, otherwise. Seth is getting ready to start school again, which apparently means golfing while he still can. He says it's going to be a busy semester. I continue to do absolutely nothing exciting or interesting at work, but remain grateful for my shortened commute and morning runs along the river.

And Finley enjoyed date night at Clyde's, where she behaved like a psychopath, banging plates on the table and waving silverware around and leering at fellow diners and sticking both hands in the appetizer plate.

We had apparently blocked this from our memories by Saturday, when we took her to brunch with the Alexanders at an adorable place in Fed Hill (Baltimore). There she helped herself to everyone's plates- she particularly enjoyed Seth's salmon and capers- before working off the calories by continually escaping and crawling laps around the café. We kept discovering her under the tables of other diners, apparently begging for scraps. Thankfully, the place was both kid-friendly and incredibly clean.

Sunday I took her to the pool while Seth golfed, where she was overcome with delight at finally being able to stand up in the wading pool but still loved crawling around in the fountains best. 

We hung out with Ana & Ata while they packed (Finley is not much help with moving) and convinced Ana to take a commissary break, during which she sabotaged me and let Finley hold a box of pop tarts. (Rest assured, they were eventually wrenched from her angry fists and returned to the shelf.)

And before we knew it, it was Monday again. Just another week for us, although I'm reeling from the shock that Mom & Dad are actually moving. (Now that I've seen it with my own eyes.)

The photo of the week is obviously the one at top, but this one's a close runner-up.

Oh and also this one, of Finley learning to eat with her own hands. For some reason, she's not satisfied unless she's squeezing the life out of her food with both fists. The scrambled egg carnage was unspeakable.