Tuesdays are for teasers. Each week I post quotes from Holland, Ivy, or Hannah. Today is from Holland, My Heart.

As I’m often awake at 4:30 a.m., I find it somehow fitting to share Holland + Naomi’s Sleep Checklist. Please do as I say (not as I do!) and get good rest.

As is her habit any time we chat late at night, Naomi runs through our sleep hygiene checklist.

“One. Go to bed and wake up at the same time every day.” We both laugh. That one gets us every time.

“Two. Create a relaxing bedtime routine to get your body and mind ready to sleep?” Naomi’s voice goes up at the end. She’s asking.

“I will,” I promise.

“Three. Stop working an hour before bedtime and avoid talking about stressful or emotional issues in bed—” She can’t even finish this one before I snort-laugh. “Are you already in bed? Holland! We should not be having this conversation.”

“I know, Nomi, I know.” I placate her.

She ignores my tone and continues, “Four. Make your bedroom dark, quiet, cool, and comfortable.”

“Like a religion,” I say. This is my favorite item on the list, and I take it incredibly seriously.

“Me too,” she says quietly. We bask in the dark quiet of our respective rooms for a moment. “Did you skip caffeinated beverages the last six to eight hours before bedtime?” she asks.

“Sure,” I lie.

“Hm. I’ll bet. We both know it’s your drug of choice. Did you avoid eating a big meal close to bedtime?”

I’m shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “Nomi, you were there,” I scoff.

“Okay, but dinner was definitely more than an hour ago. I think we’ll be okay,” she says.

I take over the list. “Seven. Exercise at least twenty minutes each day, preferably in the morning,” I say.

“Also, like a religion,” she says. Me too, and she knows it. My early morning runs and her even earlier morning pilates were our only means of dealing with all the pent-up energy accumulated when we each finally hit our lowest low. Ximena’s outlet was her boxing gym. That woman is all badass.

“Eight. No TV, no tablet, no smartphone,” I say into my smartphone.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Naomi says with an audible smile. “But we both promise the phone goes into a drawer.”

“Promise.” And it’s true. I can’t even attempt to sleep if that thing is looking at me. “Checklist checked.”

“We’ve got this,” my sweet mother-in-law says. “We are sleeping champions.”