I truly feel very blessed to be a 30 year-old woman who still has all four biological grandparents living.  I love them so much and value my relationship with them.  I love that my daughter has met her great-grandparents.  They are kind and generous people who would do anything for you.  Like most grandparents they think their grandchildren are the greatest.  I can always count on them for a good ego boost and a belly full of home cooking. I guess the best way to describe them is warmhearted.

So, you would think with those warm hearts they wouldn’t be so freezing cold all the time.

I swear they could be dancing a jig with Lucifer in Phoenix in July and catch a chill.  They keep their houses so dang hot!  I’m not sure if it’s a health thing or what.  I mean, they are from the generation that believes cold weather causes a cold.

We, however, are from a generation more familiar with the ins and outs of infectious disease and keep our house cooler.  The the warmth of my Dad’s parent’s home was never more apparent than this past weekend when we spent one of the longest nights of my life there.

I put Charlotte down in the Pack N’ Play in the guest room Friday night where Greyson and I would be sleeping too. She went down pretty quick.  Her pajamas weren’t really “thermal”, but more of a textured cotton so I wasn’t worried about her overheating. 
I giggled as my Grandma marveled at the video baby monitor as we showed her how it works.  A short while later I was tired and didn’t even care about the ancient mattress that awaited my ragged body.  I laid down as quiet as one can on bed that old.  Charlotte’s head popped up at the squeaks and groans of my weight on the springs.  She let out a cry and I picked her up.  I put her in bed with me and we snuggled down under the covers and she fell back asleep.  Greyson was watching some basketball before he joined the family snooze.

It couldn’t have been that much later that Charlotte woke up wailing.

I offered milk.  She was having none of it.

We tried a snack.  She was having none of it.

20 minutes went by.  She bawled.  She flailed around.  We gave her the My Pal Violet stuffed dog she loves and she settled down to Violet’s computerized child voice saying, “10 minutes of bedtime music.  Good night, Charlotte!”

I closed my eyes for what felt like 2 seconds before the crying started again. We cranked up Violet and she tossed and turned before closing her eyes. 

Then I couldn’t sleep. 

Roll over. 

Flip pillow. 

Bathroom. 

Fold back quilt. 

“Why is it so hot!?”

In the dim light and stifling air, my beautiful sleeping babe suddenly seemed annoyingly sweaty.  My handsome hubby grew hairer and his breathing got louder by the minute. 

Roll over.

“Why is it so hot!?” 

Charlotte started back up again.  We realized her teeth were hurting her and we had no Orajel.  Finally I said, “Maybe she’s hot.”  Um…duh! I unbuttoned her sweaty pajamas.  Greyson tiptoed in the hall to bump down the thermostat without my grandparents knowing.

Sleep. At last. 

This was the scene in the morning when Charlotte woke up and watched a video on the iPad.  Lucky kid….



Sorry for the grainy cell phone pic.  There’s Violet!



We got up a short while later.  Our sweat had mostly dried up.  Sure enough, I saw my grandma in her curlers and slippers in the hall.  She shivered and tied her robe tighter.  She looked puzzled as she fiddled with the thermostat.