Ninety percent of the time, I am the last one in the house to close my eyes at night (Nike might still be up, but she's a cat, they don't count). I lie in bed and smile. I soak up the silence. I take comfort in the peaceful moment just before dozing off myself. I like to believe this stillness signifies that I am doing things right. For this brief second, I am 100% sure that every decision in my life has been the right one. I am sleeping next to the love of my life, in our insanely comfortable bed, underneath the roof of our own house with 3 slumbering baby boys. I am relaxed because I know those babies must feel at ease, safe, loved, since they will not wake up throughout the night, (except for the rare occasion, mostly due to illness.). My parenting skills must be slightly proficient to instill such a sense of security for them.
I love that the dogs know exactly where to go. That Brock sleeps with Giraffee slung over his neck every night. That Curtis has his butt nearly a foot in the air while sucking on his "bpoppi" and snuggling his "banket beear". That George is buried in his zebra with those 2 fingers in his mouth. That tater is under his fleece blanket. That Fannie isn't howling or destroying pillows clothing or toys. That Brock and Curtis happily share a room. I love all of it.