It's Not The Heat. It's The Humidity.

Dear Laney,

The phrase, "It's not the heat - it's the humidity," is used a lot to describe the heat in the South. While it's a cliche, it's also true; the sweaty, gnat-infested heat in south Georgia is completely different than the dry heat in Missoula. When it's 100+ degrees in Missoula, you find yourself saying, "Golly, it's warm." When it's 100+ degrees in Dooly County, Georgia, you find yourself saying, "I hope nobody messes with me today, 'cause I'll kill 'em soon as look at 'em."

When you come home with a newborn, everyone thinks you're going to be up all night because of the new addition to the family. They suspect you will be sleep-deprived because of the baby's all-night feedings and crying. But here's the real deal: It's not the newborn. It's the two year-old.

With the newborn, I find myself saying, "He hasn't eaten in 3 hours? I guess I should roll over and feed him." With the two year-old, I find myself shouting, "IT'S ONE O'CLOCK IN THE DAMN MORNING. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, CAN I PLEASE WRITE YOU A CHECK FOR THE AMOUNT OF YOUR CHOICE TO GET BACK IN YOUR OWN BED?!?" You hop out of your bed upstairs at 1, 3 and 5am, and stomp downstairs all so you can wake me up and ask, "Where the baby go? How's the baby doing?"

It's like we're living with one of those night shift nurses who delight in waking up their patients to take a blood sample and ask, "Hey, how's it going?" With three professional nurses in our immediate family, this behavior should not be a surprise, but like the August heat in Georgia, it's exhausting.

Love,

Mom