This is the very first Christmas card that Brady and I sent out, as husband and wife, six months after we were married.
Look at his grin. I know I’ve talked of this grin before, but come on. I think you can see why I can’t let sleeping dogs lie. When I think of my husband, I think grin, cowboy hat, sunflower eyes, a truck full of tools, big hands, and horse tack. Mostly because this needs to be rated G for Grandmas, little Girls named Katie, and Grandpas who might read this sometimes.
We both look a little older, a little more worn, and a little chubbier these days. (Just kidding, babe…and I’m pregnant, not chubby. Ha!) Not to mention the gray hair. On him, it looks quite distinguished and refined. I’m kind of diggin’ it. On me? Well, on me, it looks like stripes, and I’m wondering how long I can limp it until I become a regular in the Clairol aisle at Target.
And I might add that I’ve never colored my hair, so it’ll probably shrivel up and fall out with the first drip of color.
This morning, about 1:00 AM, Katie woke up crying. My husband hopped up out of bed so fast, I thought he might have rocket boosters in his shorts. Then, I got confused, because he NEVER gets out of bed that fast when the baby wakes up. (We’re all picturing a 3-month-old, not a 3 ½-year-old, aren’t we?)
As I listened to them discuss through the monitor, I heard him calm her down, I heard the crying stop, and I heard her telling him about how her feet hurt. It’s been a couple of weeks since she’s woken up with issues; either she’s going through growing pains, or her feet are falling asleep because of the frog-like position she sleeps in…not sure which.
They had some back and forth, and then I hear: “Why don’t you just send Mama in here? And can you ask her to bring me a rag?”
A little diplomat at 1:00 AM.
When I got in her room, we cuddled for a bit, I rubbed her feet, and then she started to fall asleep. But not before asking, “Mama, can Brother hear all this?”
“Yes, I imagine he can.”
I told her I’d lay by her bed for a while, in case she needed me, and she got very quiet. After about five minutes, her voice shocked the darkness and gave me heart palpitations: “I love you. That’s what I need you for.”
And BOOM. I’m done for. There’s no way I can ever leave her room for the comfort of a bed – not even at 8 ½ months pregnant – after words like that. I went ahead and got comfy for the rest of the night, right there on the floor next to her bed.
About three hours later, I wake up to the feeling of something putting pressure on me. You might think it was the baby in my belly, but no…it was the baby on my side. She’d somehow slid out of the end of her toddler bed in her sleep and ended up with her head resting on the side of my pregnant belly, her bottom in the crack between me and her bed, and her legs still up on the bed.
Who can sleep like this?
Her daddy can, that’s for sure. That man can fall asleep anywhere. And these days, I bet I could, too. Gimme a rocky slab of concrete and instant drool.
I tried to maneuver out from under her, but she foiled me and ended up long ways against me, cuddling my arm. I could have slept like that all night, except – again – I’m over 8 months pregnant and CONSTANT TRIPS TO THE BATHROOM.
So I had to extract myself and put her back in her bed. In her half sleep, during this circus act, she whispers, “Watch that belly, now.”
What do you know?
A comedian, even in her sleep.