Yesterday, I told of how we moved the baby into our bedroom. This comes with a new set of master suite rules:
1.) If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown...let it mellow
You heard me right.
My environmental science professor at school insisted we practice sustainable human waste disposal, best remembered by her mantra "If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down."
If it's brown and the flush is going to disturb the baby's ridiculously short sleep cycle, let that thing disintegrate. You are in trouble if you flush it down. Just think of the good you're doing for the New York City Waste Management system.
I might also insist you drink coffee only in the mornings. And forget about fiber after 3pm.
2.) Starlight, Star bright...
We will never sleep in true darkness again.
That adorable little star nightlight that was originally in the nursery? It's plugged into our wall now. I need it so I don’t accidentally step on my glasses or Hudson. Excuse me while I wake up every 2-3 hours.
If you happen to be up in the night, don't even think about turning on the bathroom light. Use your phone to guide you to safety and to light your passage back to bed.
In fact, no water after 8pm.
3.) Feeling Hot hot hot...
No air conditioning.
The baby might be too cold. I know I'm the one who likes to sleep through all seasons with the air on, so this is actually worse for me. Now I only have the sounds of garbage trucks and sirens to fall asleep to, without the soothing roar of the AC.
It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. And I'm going to still keep my thick Harrods duvet on the bed, thanks.
4.) So I creak, creak, yeah…
No bed creaking.
Once in bed, you have a few minutes to find a comfy position for the night. When you're there and you're cozy, if you could just stay that way until morning, that would be greaaaaat.
Keep in mind my husband is 6'4" and 240 lbs. There is no delicate turning of the midsection for him. When he changes positions in his sleep, the dog and I are both involuntarily bounced around until Andy's rotation is complete. We end up in totally different spots as a result, yet we manage to just stay there.
If Hudson can learn to turn quietly, we all can.
5.) No sighing loudly.
I’m sorry you feel neglected.
I know you do, but your excessively loud sighs don’t really make me feel bad for you. They just make me want to “Shhhh!” you but I can’t, because we dare not talk.
6.) No talking.
See above. If you need me, text me, or write a note on your iPhone notepad and show me, or wait until morning.
7.) No coughing.
Ok – have a sip of water before bed. Put the glass down quietly and nobody gets hurt.
8.) No naughtiness.
This is obvious. We’re not going to be doing anything for a few years. Go back to sighing.