My love language is sleep.

The new guy insists on getting up every two hours at night. He sleeps better during the day, mostly. When he's not waking up, he's grunting or snoring or passing gas so loud you'd think a very large man with medical problems has come for a visit. I am not a heavy sleeper.

I thought I'd be posting more than mushy fauning over my husband type of stuff now, I even had a few thoughts flit through my brain yesterday while I was driving. By the time I got home all that was left of them was the impression that there was something I meant get done on the computer.

We have our fabulous family coming to town this weekend, and rehearsals for Aida start Saturday. Both are things I'm looking forward to. The thing about sleep deprivation is that it could just cause me to jot down things my inlaws tell me in my music and bring the conductor a beer and an extra pillow. Though maybe neither would mind the switch so much, who knows?

JXY

My man he is manly. I have several examples to support this conclusion: I can show the world it's not my bias talking.

ONE
Witness this morning's match pitting him against the massive pile of twisty phone line that is the Community Center Sign Up Day. I dialed for two pleasantly mind-numbing hours, from just before 8 am. I can recite the exact tone and inflection with which the woman kept answering, "All circuits are busy now...".

But my man, he dialed the land line and his cell phone like a pro. If our lives are ever made into a movie, his dialing will be slo-mo and will include percussive explosion sounds for emphasis as his fingers depress the buttons with such testosterone and focus. So of course he got through. And we got all of our classes- take that, other moms desperate for a slot in Teacher Laurie's Friday class.

TWO
Last night I played a concert. Isaac won't be the magical age of bottle-suckage (four weekies) until Sunday night. So he cried and cried for the last little bit of waiting, maybe from hunger, maybe because he enjoys a good wail now and then. My man slowly lost his manly mind BUT he was nice to the banshee. When I offered to go buy him some beer, he even paused a second before subtly enquiring if the wee noodie would be accompanying me. That kind of casual restraint, it is rare and precious.

THREE
After his rough night, one which would bring any mortal man's shoulders up around his ear-holes in wound-up tension, HE rubbed MY feet.

As I type, he is rocking the Iz's bouncer to keep him pacified.

Masculine. With a million Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmms.

After an absence from blogging, it seems a post of some depth would be required. Too bad!

We are honestly having a great time with Isaac. He is so beautiful, I can and do stare at him literally for hours.

Toby has been very casual about the whole thing. At the hospital he was enamored of J's banana muffin and could have cared less that a new wee sheriff was in the room. For the first two days after we came home, he ran around like his pants were on fire in a spot-on imitation of tired-hungry-hyper Toby. After that he's been his two year-old self. He actually offered Isaac his blanket once or twice. This is the Toby equivalent of the shirt off his back, so we were impressed.

We have so much help it's almost embarrassing. Mom and Dad are Toby's playmate slaves of choice and they also do a mean job pampering us with beer & sherbert-stocked fridges and same-day laundry service. I think we'll have a bunch more kids just to score the sweet set-up. But J can be the pregnant one this time.

I'm too lazy to get my USB chord and camera to post any more pictures... but wait! My phone is by my foot, and I think I might have something cute in there somewhere... yep: