My sweet husband, Beau, needs a lot more sleep than I do. He reported to me with much relief this morning that he was finally able to sleep through the night last night. (He’s been fighting a cold since last week that kept him up with nighttime coughing fits.)
I smiled. He knows, yet probably doesn’t truly comprehend, that I haven’t slept through the night since our third baby was born 11 months, 18 days, and 22 hours ago. (Actually, if I remember correctly, I probably wasn’t sleeping soundly in those last few weeks of pregnancy before she was born. So it’s been more than 11 months of insomnia. But hey, who’s counting?) And because we come from the Clan of Nocturnal Babies, the longest stretch of sleep I’ve had in that same time period was probably 3-1/2 hours.
I’ve previously chronicled the nighttime adventures at the Blake house. In short, as a very heavy sleeper, Beau is slow to rise to the wails of a baby, and in his grogginess, slow to comprehend what’s going on if I wake him in the middle of the night. In fact, the two of us are very likely to end up in a huge fight if I wake him in the middle of the night to help with a baby. It’s usually not worth the effort to wake him. So I learned a long time ago that the night shift is mine, not ours.
So is he tough enough to wear pink? Technically speaking, no. He is tough like a man. Which is good — our family needs a tough man. But he is not tough like a woman. Which is to be expected — we are two different creatures created for two different purposes.
Still, I let him wear pink shirts sometimes. Because he looks handsome in any color.
© Tami Blake