Husband and I still do sleep shifts. This means after I put Ian down, I go into the “crash room” and sleep until he wakes for his next feed (more accurately, I sleep until my boobs wake me up, pump for 2 1/2 minutes on each side, and take milk down to the fridge). When Ian wakes (around 3 or 4am), husband and I do a delirious changing of the guards. Often, one or both of us has to pee, and barely intelligible conversation ensues. Here’s an example:
Mandy: How did he sleep?
Evan: He was sleeping fine ’til he woke up.
Mandy: There’s a country song in there somewhere.
Then we both crack up for five minutes. I still don’t know if it was actually funny. We are both too sleep deprived to be objective.
This morning I went in for the 4am feed, Ian ate ravenously for 15 minutes, started coughing, and threw up everything in his tiny body. Then he laughed. We were both completely drenched, as was the bed and the pillows. And the washer was broken. I think this is another country song…