For as much as I complain about crying babies, babies who won't sleep, babies who refuse to eat, we actually have it pretty easy.
We work our butts off during the day, don't get me wrong. There is rarely a quiet moment — if it's not one, it's the other.
But at night, after they eat, and we do our goodnights, they go to sleep. For the night. The WHOLE night. And they have been doing this since they were about three months old.
I don't know how we got so lucky, but we did.
But this also means that once they hit the sack, we're in for the night. Only a tornado will convince me to wake those babies after they fall asleep. So, we spend all of our nights home.
For those of you who don't have kids yet, that lack of freedom probably seems depressing. No late-night runs to Taco Bell. No spontaneous trips to the movies. No more singing in Irish pubs.
But for us, the sound of quiet, content babies is freedom. Freedom to relax. Freedom to put your feet up. Freedom to kick your husband's butt at checkers THREE times in a row.