Love.

People told me about 500 times when I was pregnant how sleep deprived I would be when baby arrived. Get used to it, they said. It's gonna be a long 18 years.

In the words of my good friend, Ragan... Huh. Or in my own words, That's interesting.

First, I guess I should say we're fortunate to have a baby who likes to sleep at night. It's been eight weeks now and I think we've had only ONE night where we had to get up twice with him. When he was brand new he generally awoke once in the middle of the night to eat, then once more in the early morning when P would feed him before going to work. And now we're just to the early morning feeding. And some mornings that doesn't even happen. So everybody's getting sleep around here.

But it's not to say we don't get tired. We do. Our entire lives shifted focus in one minute- at 1:26 pm on February 16th. Everything we do revolves around this little guy and his needs right now. That does get exhausting from time to time. It has been an adjustment. And there are times when I'm waking up at 7:00 anticipating kiddo's next meal that the bed feels soooo good and I don't want to get up. But I do. And when I walk into his room and unwrap him from his warm blanket, and see those perfect arms shoot straight up in the air, and those little chicken legs kick out as far as they can go in what looks like best morning stretch that has ever been stretched, that my bed seems a million miles away. And I'd gladly leave it there for him.

He's perfect in every possible way. Even when he's doing the mad-face scream. I love it and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Not even for a few more minutes of sleep.