Busted.

Here's Jude's second note. In my defense, I AM almost totally oblivious to what's going on at night. As Lord Protector of, and Provider for, the Realm, I am ashamed of this, but I've always liked to think that if someone did break in, some atavistic part of me would sense it and rise, Achilles-like, fiercely to the occasion. The following story, I think, bears this out.

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Joseph has almost learned to sleep consistently through the night (if
you consider 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. a full night). But very often he still
wakes at 2 a.m. for a snack and since I'm packing the food, it's no
surprise that the night shift falls to mom.

Chris must feel guilty about not helping, though, because he is
constantly saying that he doesn't even hear Joseph when he cries.
Until last night, I believed him.

What changed? At 2 a.m. as I reached for a burp cloth on the
nightstand, an eight-legged critter had gotten there first. Calmly, I
laid Joseph on the bed and whispered to Joseph in a voice so soft I almost
couldn't hear myself, "Hang on, we've got a spider situation."

At that, Chris who appeared to have been deep in dreamland, sprang to
a sitting position. His hair was wild and his eyes squinted as they
darted from the sheets to the wall to the ceiling looking for the
"spider."

Meanwhile, I picked up the cloth and disposed of Daddy's greatest
phobia -- Itsy Bitsy Spider -- all awhile shaking my head and
thinking, "You are so busted."

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Midnight Memoirs from Mommy

Here's an unexpected treat: Judie blogs! She's written two posts (I'll post the second right after this). I wonder, though, how she managed to do this. All I ever hear is how busy Joseph keeps her, and how she can't put him down for one second because he's so needy all of a sudden. But she has time for a post? Hmm. Seems like time that could best be spent making me sandwiches. ;-)

(Note: we joke like that.)

Anyway, here's what she asked to be posted to the blog:

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Sometimes the best pictures are never taken but remain in the mind of
the beholder. Such was the image I saw a few days ago in the dim, hazy
bedroom light at dawn.

Joseph had been awake nearly the whole night and I was beyond
exhausted. When he woke again at 6:30 a.m., my darling husband took
over so I could sleep.

"Hey, little buddy," I heard Chris say softly as he picked Joseph up
out of his cradle and left the room to change Joseph's diaper. That was the
last thing I remember until I opened my eyes again after several short
dreams.

This is when I saw it; the image that will forever be framed in my
imagination. Chris was standing over the bathroom sink face full of
shaving cream, carving smooth lines with a razor in one hand while the
other arm supported a wide-eyed baby boy who looked over his daddy's
shoulder.

Too exhausted to fetch a camera, I closed my eyes and committed the
vision to memory.

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Note from Chris: Of course, as a guy, I'm going to read this as an artful entreaty to get up and help more! Duly noted, honey. Duly noted.