Wednesday, August 6, 2008


The Wee Man has been climbing into bed with me at stupid o'clock in the morning, and by stupid o'clock, I mean an hour that has a single number in its name.

Oh stop. Be real. You know a one-numbered A.M. hour is one that should involve sleeping. Seriously.

Today he crawled in, lifted up the covers and let in all the cold air, got snuggled down, all the while clutching Beloved (THE blanket) and sucking his thumb furiously.

This meant, praise God from Whom all blessings flow, that he was going to go back to sleep.

He slid his head across the pillow until we were forehead to bleary forehead. (That'd be me, the bleary one, at stupid o'clock in the morning.)

Mama, why are we so close together?

After contemplating numerous reasons that included torture, Murphy's Law, wanting me to never sleep soundly again, I put my Grown Up Pants on and said, Because we love each other.

And that sweet boy fell asleep instantly, with the happiest grin a furious thumb-sucker could muster.


  1. LOl. WHY do they do that!? It's like a big crusty breath swat meet!

    Apparently I lifted our little bit into the bed this morning (according to the husband) and I have absolutely no memory of it.

  2. So sweet.

    But really, can you tell me how to get those Grown Up Pants on because sometimes, no, a lot of times, I forget.


  3. I remember those days when the babies kept me up through the night and then decided that the crack of dawn would be a good time to wake me up again. There was a time when I thought I would never be able to get up off the couch again because I never got eight hours straight sleep. Hypothyroidism turned out to be a part of my issue. I think it should be mandatory for every woman to have their thyroid checked regularly during their child baring years. See you soon!


talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.