A while ago I was at the homeopath and I was talking about Brian and his lack of sleep at the time (he goes through cycles). I told her that I use to wake up every time he made a noise but lately I will wake up and he's downstairs watching a movie and I panic realizing I have no clue how long he's been up for.
I was probably even tearing up a little bit while I was telling her this. I love to put guilt trips on myself. She looked at me calmly and said, "Heather, you are so connected to those two boys that I have no doubt that you would wake up if either of them were in danger. Your body needs sleep, don't feel guilty about it."
She made me feel better but I still had doubts.
Last night Brian was up around three. I heard him get up and put on a movie but then I fell back asleep. I woke up around four, out of no where, knowing something was wrong. I sprung out of bed and ran into the laundry room because for some reason I knew that was where Brian was.
There he was on shelf four of a five-shelf unit I have. It's probably about six feet tall. He was trying to get to some candy I had stashed up on the fifth shelf.
Holy shit. That's all I can say. I have no clue how he get up there and I don't think he would've made it down safely if I had not woken up. I'm so thankful for that sixth sense, mommy-sense.
There's no doubt about it, that little boy and I are connected. My homeopath knows what she's talking about.
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