I woke up crying this morning.
It had been a hard, sleepless night with my sick, coughing-up-his-tiny-lungs-non-stop babeh in bed with me (and my hubby NOT--he's on a boys trip this weekend). The room was too hot (as it always seems to be in my case), especially so since I had to close the window to shut out the yelping maniacs who seem to need to shout at each other in the hot tub at 2 in the morning. When I'm too hot at night, I dream awful things, and last night, the awful things hurt my feelings more than they scared my psyche.

Its hard for me, as it is, to sleep without my hubby by my side, and though my babeh next to me is still sweet company, nothing compares to being able to nuzzle inside my sweetheart's shoulder nook and hear him dreaming. Sometimes he dreams that he's a bear and instead of dreaming, I hear him speak SNORE, but that's a tangent I will choose not to go off on.

So when I woke up crying (the big, sobbing tears of a hormonal, half-asleep tiredling) it was especially hard to calm myself down. My babeh stirred a little from my whimpering and I wasn't quite ready to soothe HIM back to sleep when it was ME who needed the soothing right then. I laid there thinking, "I lived by myself and in on my own for nearly 5 years before taking on a co-sleeper. Why can't I just go back to sleep!?"

Apparently my subconsious needs my hubby as much as my consciousness does. I hope he comes home before bedtime tonight.

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