I had lunch with some girlfriends recently and of course, mid-salad, the inevitable topic came up. Giving birth. I’m sorry, but if you know what it’s like to bring a baby into this world, you have the right to talk about it for the rest of your life. And if your baby has a head the size of a honeydew melon, you can justify bringing it up at any meal. (Within reason, of course.) Let’s just say I wouldn’t recommend bringing it up often to husbands, brothers, brothers-in-law, uncles, fathers, fathers-in-law, nephews, and grandfathers. Generally, any man within earshot. All you have to do is mention “maternity gown,” and you can easily clear any room of testosterone. Now, I know that men play a huge part in our children’s lives. (It all starts with a bottle of wine and ends with a 40-week-long hangover.) I just think there are times when they appreciate us not going on and on as often as we do. 

But we can’t help ourselves! It’s like we all bungee-jumped over the Grand Canyon in hospital Granny panties!

Whisper “contraction” over brunch with girls, and within seconds, there is a trickle of head nodding, “no way,” “you have GOT to be kidding me,” “uh, huh”, and giggles and cackles. Not cankles, CACKLES, as in cackling or laughing loud because you can’t control yourself (in a good way) when you’re around girlfriends. Through the years, I’ve heard cackle-out-loud stories of natural birth, C-sections, water birth, working through labor (as in working-in-the-office-during-labor-labor), false labor, 40 hours of labor, breech birth, and even those who went from hospital door to delivery table holding a precious new baby in less than 20 minutes.

Giving birth is beautiful. It’s also extremely painful. I feel like a rock star for doing it twice! And I can’t resist a good venting session with girlfriends who have endured such a life-altering experience. Especially when we have NO IDEA what to expect (hospital Granny panties and all) until we go through it.

When was the last time you had a laugh-out-loud labor story swapping session with the girls?

Wishing you & yours a WONDERFUL holiday and a fun, healthy & prosperous 2013! 

Love, Jackie, Michael, Calvin & Sarah

I have been so filled with shock and emotion for days now following the tragedy in Newtown, CT, I’m still at a loss for words. So many innocent lives lost, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about the little children, the teachers and their families. The grief these families are experiencing is inexplicable. I’ve been hugging my children and appreciating every little thing every day.

How has news of the tragedy affected your home?

I know so many parents who can’t stop thinking about it or talking about it. Just when I start to think I’ve reached a new “normal,” I hear something new about the massacre and start crying again. My daughter kissed me goodbye when I dropped her off at school recently, and I noticed a Barrington police patrol car in front of the school, and I lost it again.

As a parent, it hits me to the core. This national tragedy has hit so close to home for so many parents, despite the ongoing investigation, we will be wondering “Why?” for years to come.  December 14 will be a date this nation will never forget.

After a local mom asked me how I was going to handle sharing news of the tragedy with my two children, it got me thinking. “Do I even want to tell them?” “Will it scare them even more?” “If I don’t, will we regret it later if it gets brought up at school?”

It’s a personal decision. A decision that families have to make on their own.

After the initial news broke on Friday, we told my 11-year-old son. We told him that something terrible had happened at a school in Connecticut. We told him that many lives were lost, that we love him and that we will always strive to keep him safe. We were very “broad strokes” with our delivery, but we decided he was at an appropriate age. We did not tell my daughter, who is eight, until Sunday. We were even more “broad” with our delivery. But we wanted them to understand that they may hear about it, and if they have any questions, they can always ask us. And that we love them more than life itself.

Like so many Americans, I have read, seen and heard dozens upon dozens of news stories about the tragedy on the Internet, the radio and on television. Everywhere you look, there is news of the tragedy, the shooter, the victims, the survivors and the families.

But there is one thing that we do at our house that has actually helped ensure that our children are not terrified even more. Although we watch TV, we don’t keep 24-news stations on 24-hours a day. And we don’t watch local news with our kids. We only watch news at night, after our children are asleep. A few moms I know said that since Friday, they have made a “No TV without permission rule” in their home. For example, The Food Network is OK, but they should not be channel surfing without permission.   By no means is the rule applicable in every home, but it has worked for us. Again, it’s up to you as a parent.

My son watched as 26 flares were released into the sky at Gillette Stadium before the Patriots game on Sunday night, in honor of the 26 lives lost at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I was in tears and could tell my son was sad too. And I could tell he understood why many in the crowd had tears in their eyes. I want him to know about the tragedy, but as a parent, there is a part of me that doesn’t want him to know more than he should at such a young age.

How you can help the families of Newton, CT:

So many people want to know how they can help the Newtown community, from Teddy Bears to monetary donations via the United Way and The Red Cross. This URL provides more information. http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/relief-agencies-assistance-newtown-families-005147080.html

I wish there was a way to bring a moment of silence over the Internet in honor of these families. May your family find peace this holiday season.

OK, it’s Friday. A perfect day to vent that I’m done. Not totally done with my holiday shopping. (But yes, I’m almost there thanks to online shopping!) I’m done trying to be THAT mom this holiday season. You know the one I’m talking about. The one who always has time to juggle EVERYTHING perfectly during the holidays. And the one who enjoys one-upping other moms for no reason, except to make the rest of us awesome but not-so-perfect moms feel inadequate. You know her. She’s the Stepford-wife-wanna-be who was done with her holiday shopping in September. She’s the first to volunteer with the PTO, PTA and PTB (PTB is not real, I’m just on a roll, so bear with me here) while training for a marathon, four kids and an insanely beautiful house with Christmas decorations that belong on the cover of a magazine.

We moms need to stay sane during the holidays by simplifying, not stressing out more. Life is too short to drive yourself crazy.

Is anyone REALLY going to care that I don’t put a long hand-typed letter along with 15 pictures of my kids on my Christmas card?

That I cheat and use a photo we took during February vacation?

How about the fact that I recycle the same FAKE but oh-so-cute wreath that I bought on sale from Target six years ago? It looks real and I love it.

Or that we cheat and bought a fake Christmas tree (with lights on them) when we first got our Golden Retriever puppy three years ago so he wouldn’t ingest dried up pine needles?

Or how about the fact that I make sure to bake pies and cookies BEFORE Christmas Eve so I don’t waste the whole day in the kitchen especially when relatives have traveled thousands of miles to spend quality time with us?

It’s important for us to not try to do everything perfect, or we lose sight of the good stuff. From snow ball fights with the kids to relaxing get-togethers with friends and family.

Here are some fun ways to SIMPLIFY your life during this busy time of year:

1)      Ask your man. If he doesn’t already, ask your husband (or boyfriend) to help with holiday shopping, gift wrapping or even vacuuming. He might surprise you. (If he doesn’t, then you need to call me and we’ll vent over wine.)

2)      Night-time folding. Do your laundry at night while watching TV. It makes it less daunting and can actually be relaxing. There is NOTHING like folding clothes while watching re-runs of Sex and the City.

3)      Bake beforehand. Prepare pies, cookies and other desserts a few days before the holidays so you don’t spend every waking minute in the kitchen. Freeze meat pies. Freeze dough. It does a mama good.

4)      Time it. Set an egg-timer to ensure that you get something done without interruption. (Without checking Facebook, email or Twitter.) I started doing this for work assignments years ago, and find it helps with holiday tasks as well. I set my timer for 60 minutes recently and filled out almost all of my holiday cards. I was so excited! You can do it too!

5)      Wrap with Carrie B. Make a goal of wrapping at least one gift a day so you aren’t bombarded with gift-wrapping at 11:30 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Or how about wrapping while watching your favorite show (like re-runs of Sex and the City) (after the kids are in bed). You’ll be amazed at how quickly the time flies and how much you can accomplish.

6)      Make it a family event. Have your kids help you with tasks. They can help you decorate the Christmas tree, decorate the yard, carry in firewood, and take their folded clothes to their rooms. My daughter helped me bake four dozen cookies yesterday and we had a blast. My son always enjoys bringing in firewood with my husband. The trick is to not ask them, but say, “Guess what we’re doing together this afternoon?” And nine times out of 10, they get excited about it.

The key is to stop trying to be all Steford-like and simplify so you can enjoy the holidays. Now get going and enjoy the day!

When was the last time you went away with your man? Without it being a kids’  tournament or business trip? Without the kids? Without the dog? I know – it had been a while for us too. We always go on trips with our kids. But we recently left the kids with my mother-in-law and escaped to Newport, RI for 36 hours to celebrate our anniversary. We adore our two children and enjoy traveling with them, but we so needed this mini-get-away. (I think we left skid marks in the driveway.) We stayed at a beautiful hotel close to downtown Newport with drapes so nice, I wanted to snap pictures of them and post them on Facebook. (But I held back for my husband’s sake.) We walked to pubs and nice restaurants. We ate lobster. We drank champagne. We shopped for ourselves. We left our laptops at home. We turned off our phones. We left the laundry and dishes at home. We had intelligent conversations. We laughed a lot. We even kissed in public.

Then we came home.

Two hours after we get home, I realize the anniversary honeymoon is oh so over. I had piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and a disappointed dog waiting for me. I also had a headache from having so much fun. Just as I’m about to declare it a PJ day and attempt to sneak in a nap, my son announces that he needs parental assistance with an important junior high school project that’s due in a couple of days. My daughter has run out of clothes and I’m stressed about everything I have to do before the holidays. As I’m working with my son, I start daydreaming about how the most challenging decisions we had to make during our short parental sanity trip involved whether we would choose lobster or steak. Beer or champagne. Umbrella or no umbrella.

It was so easy, it was almost ridiculous.

I wonder if this is what life’s going to be like in 30 years? (Minus double chins, grand- muffin tops, corns and arm flab, of course.)

This weekend, my husband and I will be celebrating our 17^th wedding anniversary. Yes, I married my high school sweetheart (who makes me laugh every day) 17 years ago. How can it be that 17 years have gone by when we often talk about how we still feel like we’re 17? (Minus the wrinkles, back fat and the fact that we go to bed at 10 p.m., about the time all the “young people” head out.) In celebration of a special occasion, I wanted to share an excerpt from my book, How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker. This is a mommy whine of my very own and a cheese dip from a talented mom. I hope you enjoy it!

An excerpt from How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker:

VENTING 12: Chopped Broccoli and Vagina Tales

WHINE: Vagina Tales from Jackie

It happens nearly every time we get together with other couples. After dinner and a few glasses of wine, we women gradually end up three rooms away from our husbands and start swapping birth stories. Men will brag about their college drinking days, and the women will go on and on about giving birth. I know my husband is sick of me sharing my vagina tales, but I pushed two human beings into this world, so I believe that entitles me to have bragging rights for the rest of my life. It’s an inevitable topic. Had I done whiskey shots while riding on a roller coaster without puking, maybe I’d brag about that, too. After all, nobody tells you what really happens during childbirth. Sure—there are books, doulas, classes, and birthing coaches. But until you go through it yourself, it’s like trying to learn how to drive a car without getting behind the wheel. It’s not even close. My husband and I went through birthing classes together; we watched the films, practiced breathing, and he placed his hands in a bowl of ice for 10 minutes along with me. It hurt like hell and I whined like a baby, but before I knew it, it was over and we were sitting comfortably in a restaurant in downtown Seattle nibbling on pad Thai. Needless to say, I had a tough time delivering my first child. No one told me it would feel like I had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler and would have to wear maxi pads the size of Texas for six weeks. But after it was over, I was in full-blown honeymoon stage, holding this unbelievable child that looked like ET’s little brother. I was in love. And I thought we were in the clear, until we brought him home.

CHEESE: HOT BROCCOLI DIP from Rebeca at the Average Parent

My top recipe for this year is Hot Broccoli Dip, which is a variation of a recipe I found through Cabot. It’s very similar to spinach dip, with a few differences that can really make it stand out at any party.

Ingredients:

1 (10-ounce) package of frozen chopped broccoli

8 ounces of Cabot Seriously Sharp Cheddar, Vintage Choice

Cheddar, or other premium extra sharp cheddar, grated

4 ounces of cream cheese

1 cup of parmesan cheese (add more to taste, if desired)

½–1 teaspoon of garlic powder (to taste)

½ teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes

Place frozen broccoli in microwave-safe bowl; cover loosely with plastic wrap and microwave until hot and tender, about 9 minutes (do not add any water). Mash broccoli with potato masher until large chunks are gone. Add cheddar, cream cheese, parmesan cheese, garlic powder, and pepper to bowl. Cover again and microwave just until cheeses are melted, 1 to 2 minutes longer. Stir until smooth. (If mixture seems thin, it will thicken upon cooling.) Serve with crackers.

Here’s the thing with me and the holidays. I adore my family and the holidays. But I tend to get a little frazzled. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy getting together with family and friends, decorating the tree, shopping for cute gift wrapping, going to cookie exchange parties and even putting jingle bells on my puppy. I love snowball fights with my kids and racing inside for hot cocoa with mounds of whipped cream. (Just like the hot chocolate Mr. Flanders makes for Bart in the Simpson’s Movie. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a must-see scene.)  I have the best of intentions when it comes to thinking about Christmas shopping. I start a list in my head and get all excited. I write down ideas. I daydream about everyone opening their gifts with huge smiles on their faces. Like something out of a PB catalog, but there are real people in my family room, not just models hanging stockings with first names like Collins and Walker stitched on. It’s not that I hate shopping. Give me a couple hours in a downtown department store with girlfriends and I can literally shop until I drop. OK, so a few hours will go by and I’m shaking because I need some food (and maybe chocolate Santas and Green tea). We’ll stop, eat and shop again. But the real problem renders its ugly head the moment I start second guessing myself with my choices.

Do these inner holiday-shopping thoughts sound familiar?

“Do I want to buy this for ME or her?”

“She’ll never find out that I got one for myself too. Or will she? Oh crap.”

“Didn’t I buy this last year?’

“Is this too much? or not enough?”

“Will he REALLY like this, or will he give me THAT look when he opens it?”

“Come on, you can DO this. Don’t buy a gift card. Don’t buy a gift card.”

“Maybe he would appreciate a gift card?”

Enough already! Why can’t we host a White Elephant gift exchange like I do with my girlfriends where we literally pick items from around the house (or re-gift lame gifts) and swap them over wine and cheese? We giggle the night away. I received booty enhancer pads one year (no idea who gave them to my friend first) and almost died laughing.  I honestly enjoy it. I would carry on this tradition in our home, but it obviously wouldn’t work when the kids are waiting for Santa to come to town with real gifts. We do Secret Santa gift exchanges on both sides of our family, but there are still people that I give gifts to every year, no matter what. And they are the ones that are the hardest to buy for! I just want them to know I care – even if what I found at the mall (on a full bladder) is so going in the back of their closet this time next year.

I’ll calm down. After a few hot chocolates, I’ll pull myself together and focus. I can always do most of my holiday shopping online. Thankfully, I do realize it’s the thought that counts. Even if I accidentally throw a couple items in my size in the online shopping cart, it IS the thought that counts. 😉

This Thanksgiving, all I could focus on was hosting a dinner for 14 people that would not turn out like something from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. (Featuring a turkey so dry, it would implode on itself.) My brother, his wife and their three adorable boys flew in from Denver for the big day, and our kids had a non-stop-week-with-cousins extended slumber party.  I prepared all the sides and desserts in the days before so that everything would go off without a hitch.

A half hour before everyone arrived, I race upstairs to put on a cute black skirt and under eye concealer to mask the fact that I only had four hours of sleep and a slight hangover. I decided to slap on Spanx too because I was feeling a little flabby and bloated. I pulled the bird out of the oven and I’m happy to say it was so beautiful, so juicy, so moist, I wanted to dress the bird in a tuxedo and show it off in a parade. But we ended up carving it down and dove into it and some pretty tasty sides. All of the sides. (Yes, I had a little bit of everything on my plate.) Fifteen minutes into dinner, I realize I can hardly breathe. I take a sip of my drink, thinking it’s just my imagination. But I can’t ignore the pressure. The Spanx have practically cut off my circulation. Like a rubber band on a balloon, the Spanx did nothing more than push my belly flab from one area to another. And my slightly-too-small skirt is smack in the middle. There is such an obvious line where the Spanx ends and my upper belly begins, if I burped into the candle and cranberries centerpiece I had worked so hard on, I might set the table on fire. I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, trying desperately to remove the apparatus that is causing this dinner-time dilemma. I successfully slide the Spanx off of my belly, down my legs and over my boots, but realize I can’t leave the bathroom without them in my hands. I sneak out, hiding them behind my back. “Babe, is everything OK?” my husband asks. “Yes, everything’s just fine.” I put on a fake smile, run to the family room and shove the Spanx in the front closet.

Finally, I find my way back to my seat. I sit down and feel a sense of release. Literally.  As if a mountain of bloat has been freed from under my skirt. My muffin top has found its way back to where it belongs. Behind the table cloth. And so I did what any sane host would do at this point. Serve pie, say yes to seconds and enjoy the day Spanx-less with my wonderful family.

Happy Thanksgiving! Whether you’re hosting an army this Thursday or bringing a store-bought pie to a small gathering, I hope you have a fabulous holiday! Because It’s Thanksgiving week, I wanted to do what we in the mom-blogosphere refer to as a “Thankful Thursday” post where we list a few things we’re thankful for in our lives.

I have family coming into town in a matter of hours, and for whatever reason, when relatives visit, I tend to get a little neurotic about making sure everything in my house looks better than it usually does. For example, I just re-vacuumed the entire house, only to have my dog and my kids track in more leaves behind me. I feel sorry for my husband because when he sees me like this, it drives him crazy, which makes me even more neurotic. At this point, it is what it is. Three nephews under 10 + my kids + my dog + tons of other relatives= a zoo by the time I pull the (please-be-juicy-and-fabulous) turkey out of the oven.

I’m praying for a pleasant visit filled with happy, healthy kids & adults, blurred vision for those passing any unkempt corners and a dog that doesn’t jump or hump anyone until Saturday.

And I digress. There are so many things to be thankful for this year!

#1 I’m thankful for my family. I’m grateful for my husband who makes me laugh every day and actually enjoys folding his own laundry.

#2 I’m thankful for my third grader and sixth grader. And I’m SO relieved that I don’t have to go through sixth grade again. Although I had a lot of friends, I had no idea at the time that I was pretty much the female version of Farmer Ted in the movie 16 Candles.

#3 I’m thankful that I did most of my food shopping ahead of time so that I don’t have to wait in the check out line with four elderly couples who brought a shoebox full of expired coupons.

#4 I’m thankful for my friends who even with a single text or email, have the power to transform my mood and make me laugh so hard, I often need to run to the little girls’ room.

#5 I’m thankful for my mom and dad. They are wonderful people who raised me to be a caring individual and I’m happy they will be celebrating Turkey Day in Florida or else I would be even more neurotic trying to make everything perfect for their visit. 😉

#6 I’m thankful for online shopping. I don’t have the patience to shop the Black Friday deals in person this year. Going to the grand opening of Nordstrom Rack with friends was awesome, but after 40, crowds are even more annoying. Plus I plan to eat enough food on Thursday to erase any progress I’ve been making with Pilates and jogging, so I’ll need to trot off my turkey (and multiple servings of pies, veggies, potatoes, casseroles, rolls, cranberry sauce and sandwiches) that day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I’m thankful for many things. But on this particularly rainy day, I’m thankful that I was able to sneak in a Jane Fonda-style workout before everyone else wakes up. It didn’t start out this way. I got up, went downstairs, stuck my toes outside and could tell it was too rainy to go for a jog with my dog. My dog looked at me like I had just taken away his girlfriend. (Which just so happens to be the shag rug bean bag chair we have in the basement.) I know, I know, but my dog is very fond of this piece of furniture right now. He once started “going to town” when my kids were around and I was mortified. “Mom, what’s he doing?” my daughter asked. “Dancing honey. He’s just dancing,” I said, as I yanked the bean bag from under him. See, the dog smells up the house something awful when he’s wet. It’s not the rain as much as the puddle-jumping, splashing and rolling in the mud that gets me. It doesn’t matter if I dry him off with a towel and a hair dryer, the house still smells like an Old Folks Home in August.

And I digress.  Although I wanted to just take a shower and get going with my day, (and shove down a Cinnamon Roll) I knew I needed a work out so I resorted to doing what I do best on rainy days when I don’t have time to hit the gym. Working out in the basement. Yes, I feel like a character in a horror film at first, heading down the stairs in the pitch black, waiting for the Haddington crazed man to get me. It may be 5:50 a.m., but it feels like midnight on Halloween. Then I crank on all the lights, some music (or an upbeat, non-horror show like “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” on Netflix) and start doing exercises and having my own private Jane Fonda “feel the burn” party. The best part is, it’s much too early and way too dark for anyone to see my 1980’s oh-help-me-if-they-come-back-in-style headband, off-the-shoulder-because-it-was-so-on-sale-and-now-it’s-too-big t-shirt and running shorts. Only my dog, who happens to be shooting me a look of both guilt and embarrassment, can see me. So it’s all OK now. I’m waking up. I’m moving. I’m burning calories. I’m doing leg lifts. And I’m hanging out with my dog. By this time, he has plopped himself on the floor, looking up at me every now and then just to make sure I’m aware that he’s still horrified and disappointed. He closes his eyes and takes a nap. Lots of jogging, arms lifts here and leg lifts there, and I’m done. Would you look at that, puppy? Mom was able to sneak in a 30-minute workout! And I still have time for a shower before anyone else gets up. It’s little things like this (and the fact that only my dog has seen me in my “Oh-What-A-Feelin’-Flash-Dance” ensemble) that makes this mom happy.

In honor of Veterans Day, I’m doing something this week that I rarely do ­­– observing a moment of silence. Taking some quiet time in their honor. I know it’s hard to imagine, but it’s for something close to my heart. My grandfather fought in two wars and survived Pearl Harbor. He was an amazing man and went through more than anyone in our family could ever comprehend. As a kid, you hear war stories from your grandfather and then jump back on your Huffy, because it’s too much to take in. Can you imagine trying to tell your children today? When you really stop and think about what veterans go through, it’s mind-boggling. And not only their sacrifices, but the emotional roller coaster endured by their mothers. Can you imagine sending a child off to war? Your own child? Our mother’s mothers, our grandmother’s mothers and even our grandmother’s grandmothers went through so much, it’s overwhelming.

I hope you can take a moment to reflect on those in your life who have served and thank them in your own way this week. Whether it’s buying one of those little red flowers from the sweet man in uniform behind the card table at the grocery store, reading a book to your kids, watching a documentary or even taking a road trip and visiting a monument. No matter what you do, take some time in their honor.

While watching all the election coverage over the past few months, something hit me. I’m not going to get into the particulars of political issues or who won this race and who lost that one. (I congratulate all the candidates. After all, it’s not polite to talk politics at the dinner table, girls! That’s what the networks are for.) But I made a mom-to-mom observation that I had to share. After all was said, spent and done, I realize that we as moms have something ridiculously obvious in common with political candidates. Even the ones with chest hair and receding hairlines. These candidates have experienced a level of sleep deprivation over the past several months that only a mother can understand. (Those of you who had babies that slept through the night since birth, please, it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good mom, but kindly leave the room.) These candidates spent countless months preparing for the election just as we prepared for the birth of our babies. Whether it’s violent morning sickness (in office trash cans) or negative ad campaigns that force people you thought were your friends to turn on you, we endured. Lying awake night after night, preparing for the due date. (Or Election Day.) Getting rest in between ugly debates and painful trimesters, we endured. Knowing that win or lose, the day would come. Regardless of how long the labor or campaigning, there would be an end result.

As a new mother, when I woke to a crying baby at 1:30 a.m. and 4 a.m. and had to roll into the office the next day, I felt like I had been hit by a George Foreman Grill by the time the alarm clock went off. (I soon realized there was no need for an alarm clock. I had the real thing!) I had to eat enough carbs to feed a family of five and drink three cups of tea just to get through lunch time. Imagine doing a campaign speech on three hours of sleep? And if you made a mistake, it would be recorded live and played over and over for hundreds, sometimes millions of people to see? Running to the office on four hours of sleep was a norm, so Ibuprofen and tea were my BFFs. I can only imagine how much coffee and tea the candidates consumed just to keep going every day.

In the days following the 2012 Election, I hope all the candidates, their volunteers and families get some much needed rest. (Before moving on with their lives.) Just as you relished the time a relative offered to visit so you could hide in your room, hug your pillow and hand over the baby (and baby bottle) for a few precious hours of mommy time. (Glorious mommy sanity.) Yes, win or lose, giggle or gurgle, there is nothing more sacred than sleep!