the dark hours

Do you know what's boring? Listening to people talk about how tired they are. Bor-ing! What more is there to say? I'm soooo tired, I could sleep right now.

Still, I think you should know. I'm tired. I have been trying really hard to write part 2 of my ministry wife series, but I keep sounding angry, and I'm not. I just get a little edgy you know, when I'm... anyway.

You forget this part, the not sleeping. I mean, technically, I sleep 2 hours at a time, and then wake up for a half hour or so, and then lay awake next to a full, sleeping baby, thinking about Osama Bin Laden and head wounds in general. If you're a grammar cop, yes, that sounds like the baby is thinking about these gory topics in the wee of the night. Inaccurate. Back off my grammar, my brain is also tired.

So there I lay or lie, very still so my elbow doesn't bump the baby, who I am too tired to put back in his crib, which is 5 feet away. And I think, and I feel my pillow on my face. And then I must sleep, because he is awake again but it's 2 hours later. And so on.

Around 5 am, he is jovial. The sun is barely coming through the skylight, and he is thrilled to find that I am here, and he is here, and here we are together, for the morning celebration. And I'm looking at him through literally foggy eyes, and he is the cutest thing ever. I try to convince his cuteness to sleep for the next 2 hours, and eventually win just as the rest of the house is stirring.

I've been doing this parenting gig for a while, and this is where I always get hung up. I don't like to let them cry. I like to spoil babies. I like to snuggle them to sleep, and feel their breathing change to match mine, and I think it's good for their soul. I could hardline it here, and win. But I won't. Not yet, anyway. I'm just gonna hang out here in denial and think maybe he'll hit some developmental whaddyacallit that makes him sleep, all on his own.

Next week! Brilliance! Wit! Delusions of grandeur!!