A real conversation...

I am about to give you a glimpse of a conversation that took place in my house about a week ago. 

10 pm.

We are in our bedroom.

Getting ready for bed.

HIM: "Babe... are you wearing your work shirt to bed?"

ME: "Uh huh."

HIM: "Do you have another one to wear to work tomorrow?" 

ME: "Nope."

HIM: "So... you are going to sleep in the shirt you are going to wear tomorrow?" 

ME: "Yup."

HIM: "Why?" 

ME: "Cause it's wrinkled... and I figure that my body heat, through the night, will de-wrinkle it." 

HIM: "Brilliant." 

5 more minutes...

That was an infamous statement of mine growing up. My parents would call up to my bedroom from the living room... "Jennifer... It's time to get up!"

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And with my face smeared on my pillow, I'd muster up a, "5 more minutes." 

Fast-forward a few years to college. THANK goodness for my roommate... who shared a love for that good-looking snooze button. 

I swear if you had recorded our first waking hour in that dorm room you would have thought that we were practicing a song called the "dueling alarm clocks". 

And you know what? We would finally roll out of our beds... and smile at one another. "Morning buddy." We didn't mind the other's alarm clock. We swore that those few minutes in between each "snooze" were the best sleep we'd had. There is something so amazing about waking up... rolling over... and knowing you STILL have just a few more precious moments.  

Fast forward to this morning. Alarm clock goes off. Snooze. Double snooze. Triple snooze. Now, both my husband and I can't figure out how to shut the darn thing off. We smuggle it under our blankets. The beep beep is now soothing. 

And I think... 5 more minutes. 

And then I hear... "Ma!" "Momma!" 

And I just don't think they get it when Mom says, "5 more minutes." 

The Baby Whisperer

A couple months after we brought the boys home... we decided to try to let them "cry it out" at night. They were crying just because they wanted to be with us... and we said, "let's do this sleep training thing." With Braveheart, (the first we brought home)... he cried for a few nights and then owned it. Sleeping through the night like a teenager (well... almost). VERY few nights does he get up and cry... and usually... there is a reason (and of coarse we go to him). 

But Tenderheart was another story. Tenderheart is our little Asthmatic one, with Acid reflux... with other complications (a suspected whole in the esophagus... which leads to aspiration). So, with our little Tenderheart... we don't let him cry. Too much crying just isn't good for our little one. So, off and on... my husband and I get up in the night with little Tenderheart. For a while... I was the one getting up. However, my husband soon took the role of the "Bread winner" by day and the "Dad who gets up" by night, also. Bless his little soul. 

And then, we discovered something. When I would go in to their room at night... Tenderheart would especially enjoy his "snuggling" with Mommy. I would sooth him, snuggle him, lull him. And holding him lasted at least 15 minutes. When Daddy goes in to the bedroom... Daddy means business. He picks up Tenderheart, loves him, holds him, calms him... and then quickly puts him back to sleep and says, "ni-night".

So one night, Tenderheart cried. Daddy got up. Daddy opened the door... Tenderheart sat up. Saw that it was Daddy (and not Mommy) and laid back down. And fell asleep.

So we call Daddy the "Baby Whisperer". And we call Mommy "the one who has a sweet set up."