Are the neighbours using a palm sander?

On Saturday night, a few friends with children lamented their need to repeatedly ensure that their newborns were breathing. I'm sure that I'll do the same thing up to a point. That point being the day on which BabyBear takes up snoring like her mother.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I breathe deeply when asleep. Now that I'm pregnant, burdened with a lingering sniffle, and surrounded by strategically placed pillows, I flat out snore. Add it to the list of things beyond my control.

One night last week, I decided to practice my hypnobirthing exercises after dinner. PapaBear remained downstairs and was startled to hear the sound of a palm sander coming from our neighbours' home. "Why would Chris and Carolyn sand in the evening when they know the semi-porous nature of our semi-detached homes' shared wall?", he wondered.

Turns out that power tools were not the culprit. Instead, my relaxation track had put me to sleep and I was generating enough vibration to earn "Black & Decker" for a nickname. PapaBear was so concerned that he woke me up to protect our 80-year old plaster walls.

So when BabyBear spends her first night at home, I'm sure that I'll place my hand on her rising chest and look for fog on a mirror hovering above her face. Once she starts sawing away, however, the whole neighbourhood will know that she's sleeping just fine.