Zzzzz

I am a sleep snob. Or at least I used to be before having two children. I am that person who went to bed at 9pm in college so she could get 8 solid hours in before her 6am clinical the next morning. And after graduating, I am that person who didn't even consider working night shifts because she preferred poverty to sleepless nights. I am that girl who used to lie her smiling face on her pillow every night and exclaim, "Ahh, my favorite part of the day!"
Unfortunately my sleep snobbery has reluctantly been put to rest (pun intended) within the last two years. You can thank my two adorable offspring for that.
Sometimes I go to bed at 9pm just so I might get six hours of sleep by 7am. Between thunderstorms, Alaina screaming for fear of thunderstorms, Jesse waking up 3-4 times, Alaina falling off the bed, and nausea from eating chips and salsa too late (that last one's my fault) I'd say our nights get a little crazy around here.
When we are young, people make us sleep when we don't want to.
Then when we grow up we want to sleep but nobody will let us (aka my life).
And then we get old, and have the freedom to sleep, but we can't.
And then we die.
So I guess in the end we all get to take a nice long nap.

If I die

Have you ever had that conversation with your spouse--the one where you give them instructions following your death? Ours is a continuing dialogue, where I throw in the do's and don'ts whenever they come to mind. Caleb hates it. I can't say I blame him. The subject's a real downer.
Like, for instance, when you're watching 17 Miracles, and your wife randomly says, "You know, if we were both stranded somewhere, and I die, I give you permission to eat me." This is then followed by a charged debate on whether cannibalism is ever truly acceptable, and whether or not I would take the liberty to eat Caleb if he were the first to die. FYI, My answer was, "Only with your permission!" (I didn't get it.)
And then there's the touchy subject of remarriage. I am well aware that Caleb would whither away without a wife to stuff food down his throat, so I have made my own list of worthy replacements. My only stipulation is that she be uglier than me, so I can be reassured even in the afterlife that I am his first love. I can see the wanted ad now:
Distraught Widower seeking replacement wife to raise 2 young children and manage household. Cheery disposition and "sweet spirit" required. Frumpiness encouraged.
Sometimes I will randomly ask Caleb, "So, what do you love about me?" just so I won't miss the good stuff in my eulogy. And speaking of funerals, I once heard of a man who died from complications of diabetes. His wishes were that his funeral be followed by an ice cream party, since his disease prevented him from eating his favorite treat while alive. I'm liking the sound of that.
As for Caleb, he won't give me much instruction in the case of his demise. He only says that purchasing a life insurance policy is tricky because he never wants to be worth more to me dead than alive. He says I met get ideas.