So THAT'S what an aneruysm feels like!

Yesterday I put Critter and SmudgeE in the playroom so that I could feed Moose without constantly yelping "SmudgeE Smith! Get that shoe out of your mouth!" or "Critter! Don't you pop SmudgeE's hand for eating shoes! Only Mama pops!"

After Moose finished eating I checked on Critter and Smudge. Since they were both curled up in the playroom reading, I put Moose on his tummy for some tummy time while I took a few blessed minutes to check facebook (insert Mama guilt here).

I logged on, read my notifications, and looked over to Moose. His back didn't appear to be rising and falling. I watched for another second. NO movement. I looked at his face: bluish tint. The laptop and floor now have dents where I dropped the computer out of my lap as I stood up and crossed 4 feet with one step. I touched Moose's hand. Nothing. I flipped Moose over onto his back while yanking the blanket from his legs and screaming "MOOSE!!!" Nothing. One part of my brain told me to start banging on his chest while the other part of my brain began to frantically search my memory for where I'd left my cell phone.

With the first punch to his heart Moose opened his perfect little eyes and let out a wail to wake stone mountains.

Turns out, he'd finally fallen into that sweet, perfect slumber that only babies are capable of. The blue tint was no doubt a result of the angle of the morning sun and the BLUE blanket I'd laid him on.

Moose was ticked off to say the least. I keeled over with giddy giggles.

An HOUR later my hands had stopped shaking enough for me to feel safe cutting up grapes for Critter and SmudgeE's snack. I cut the grapes, keeping one eye on my knife holding hand, the other on Moose.

I put Critter and SmudgeE in their seats, divided up the grapes between them and then decided that I would sit at the table with them and read a chapter of my new book. I read a page. I looked at all 3 babies, and read another page. I looked up. Moose- eating his fist. Critter- eating grapes. SmudgeE- keeled over in his highchair.

I dove across the table screaming SMUDGE!!!!!!! louder than I thought possible. I yanked his head back ready to jerk him out of his seat and dislodge a quarter of a grape from his windpipe.

Turns out, he'd fallen asleep-that deep baby sleep- in his high chair.

There is a definite possibility that no one in this house will ever sleep again.