I have way more gray hairs than I started with

Clay has always been good at sleeping. He and I could snooze through a hurricane-tornado-blizzard triple threat and wake up the next morning none the wiser. The minute Clay was born, however, Eleanor stopped sleeping. She spends the night in a bizarre state somewhere between drowsy and wide awake. 

Yet I'm the one she makes check on the baby during the night. 

A recent conversation with my wife after walking in the nursery at 2 am to ensure our peacefully sleeping child was peacefully sleeping: 

Eleanor: How was he? 

Scott: Asleep. 

Eleanor: Is he breathing? 

Scott: Would I be back if he wasn't? 

Eleanor: Just making sure. 

She is a firm believer in Murphy's Law and is convinced of an infinite number of things we should be worried about. SIDS. Outlets. Drowning. Bloodthirsty raccoons. I generally shrug my shoulders and go on with my day. But living in my wife's imaginary Hunger Games world is starting to give me gray hair. 

-Scott

Note From Eleanor: Life is exhausting.