Sleep, that's where I'm a viking. -Ralph Wiggum, The Simpsons.

At times it can seem like the entire point of our existence is an attempt to get everybody in the house to sleep at once. The baby typically only needs to be held and rocked or changed or walked or burped or fed in order to sleep. The dog needs to burn off excess energy, via greeting guests, running in circles around the yard, or walking alongside the stroller, which has made its debut this week.

The cat sleeps with impunity. I believe this is because her weight is slowing the beat of her heart, leaving her in a semi-catatonic (no pun intended) state. As for Kate and I, there is the rub. I'm working when she's first sleeping. She's feeding the baby when I come to bed and then thereafter we usually steal a few hours when both of us are asleep.

In the early morning before the dog whines in her crate, the baby fusses in her crib, the cat emits an asthmatic wheeze, or Kate bumps into the edge of the bed on the way to the bathroom -- there is a still quiet. I would have never thought we would have spent so much of our waking day striving to get back to that moment.