I didn't blog last night. I went to bed at 830 pm. I didn't hear the toddler wake up at 230 am, nor did I hear my husband get up to rock her. I did hear my son wake up at 3, and barely Jason telling me to go back to bed- that Charlie was back asleep and that he was taking care of Sam.
I remember Jason coming back to bed at 330, and I remember hearing Sam's giggles and the voice of Emily the train over the monitor.
And then I remember nothing until 7 am.
I wouldn't know until morning that Sam didn't fall back asleep until 5, and that Jason didn't either. I wouldn't know until morning that the trade off for my night of rest was that my husband would hardly sleep at all.
Of course, I could have predicted it. And I know that tonight, the tables will be turned, and it will once again fall to me to make sure that Jason gets at least a few extra hours.
This trade off is how we work, like a well oiled machine. It is hardly ever discussed, but we are effortless- practically psychic- in knowing what role we are to play at any given time. There is no sense of competition. There is no counting the hours. There are no score sheets.
All there are are "Thank yous" and "I understand" and "my turns" and "I love yous" and "I'm sorrys".
I don't know much about marriage. And I don't know much about marriage in the context of an intense and complex family life. But I do know this much:
The second you start keeping score, you go from one team to two.
Our motto is- has always been- "we're all on the same team."
In compromise, everyone loses something.
In collaboration, everybody walks away feeling like they have won, because the goal is a shared goal.
I am really lucky to have Mr Dulock as my co-captain. Thanks for taking one for the team, Bebe!
Now, my turn.