I woke up at 5:30am in a panic. I totally had missed Wilson's cry during the night. I raced to his crib expecting to find my child wrought with feelings of starvation and abandonment.
But the awesome kid was fast asleep, snoring. He had never woken up! I quickly counted up the hours...six! Six glorious uninterrupted hours of solid sleep.
Do you know what this means to a parent of a newborn? It means you have just been given the equivalent energy level of a venti espresso and a new lease on life.
So what does one do with a sudden rush of well-restedness? You load up your equally as charged kiddos, drive an hour into the middle of nowhere and pay for the pleasure of bending over in the hot sun and picking your own strawberries.
Of course, my boys have unmeasurable amounts of energy no matter how many hours of sleep so it didn't take them long to discover their own sort of strawberry field entertainment.
My goal was to pick enough of the red berries for homemade strawberry jam. Jefferson's goal was to eat them as fast as I could pick them.
Harrison's goal was to turn them into mushy exploding air assault weapons and he ended up with several war wound stains.
Somehow we made it through the adventure with everyone alive and well and sticky. Strawberry picking was a pretty good choice for messy adventurous boys and a momma with six straight hours of sleep under her belt.
But when you've got smiles like this and precious little men to expereince life with who cares how much sleep you get. It's a badge of parenthood I wear proudly and totally worth every hour spent in sleep or not.