Balcony Nights (sounds so dreamy...)

So yes, I'll just come out and say it.  Lincoln is the boss, applesauce-style (it rhymes...stay with me here).  When he goes down for a nap, not only do we have a white noise machine running, but we also have a fan, black out curtains, and a video monitor displaying his room temperature.  Since the sun hits Lincoln's room in the afternoon, we actually turn on our air conditioner (it's 34 degrees outside, to further my point of lunacy) in order to keep his room at a comfortable temperature.  Does this leave the rest of the apartment sweater-required freezing?  Possibly.  Okay, yes.

We don't talk while Lincoln slumbers; we don't do dishes or close the microwave (if we have the courage to open it at all), and I have asked noisy neighbors to "shut it or so help me!" (which I do by universal signing "baby" and "sleep," since no one in our complex speaks fluent English).

Have I exploited our extreme, keep-Lincoln-asleep anxiety yet?  It's ridiculous, yet every time Lincoln goes to sleep (especially after his bedtime), both Tyce and I continually shush the other until we end up outside, on the balcony, where it is literally freezing, just so we don't have to whisper.

Which brings me to my point: sometimes, when we're feeling especially enthusiastic about our self-eviction into the frigid, cold night, we plan ahead and make a sort of "date" out of the situation.  We buy sparkling cran-apple cider and break out the fancy wine glasses.  Tyson surprises me with a ring pop (my very favorite of favorites), we light candles, pull on two layers of sweatpants over our jeans, and say a prayer for our noses (they're always the first to go painfully numb).  And yes, I end up bearing a striking resemblance to the Michelin Man.  Sexy, I know.

These "balcony nights" (although we have to do frostbite checks afterward) have provided a somewhat worry-free, relaxed atmosphere for us, where many of our best conversations and (loud!) laughs have taken place lately.  It's a fun little ritual we've created, almost like a bi-weekly "date night."

Yes, we live in fear of waking our light-sleeping one year old, but it's produced a unique experience and a time we get to spend together without interruptions (except to maybe check Lincoln's monitor every so often)!  Now let's just get it out there - do we know how to party, or what?  Raise the roof!!!

  (and don't even pretend you're not busting that move after this!)