Last night, I stayed up until midnight doing this:
Then, at 4:00 a.m., this happened:
Kid #3 barreled down the hall, her feet pounding the floor like a herd of elephants. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Where are you, Mommy?"
Pantry doors opened, then slammed.
Thump, thump, thump went her feet on the stairs.
My bedroom door squeaked as she opened it and ran across the room, leaving the door open behind her so that the dogs could make their exit.
"Bailey! Get back in here."
My poor Aussie lowered his head and returned to his spot on the floor next to my bed.
"Shut the door, Clarissa."
Then, her beautiful, smiling, awake face was right next to mine. "Can I have these, Mommy?"
She held up a bag of these:
I took the bag of semi-sweet morsels and dropped them on my nightstand. "No, Clarissa. Go to sleep."
"I sleep in your bed."
"Fine. Just be quiet." Fluffing the pillow, I grumbled my way back into a comfortable position.
Clarissa patted my back. "I watch tv."
"Yes. I watch tv."
"Watch tv. Watch tv. Watch tv."
"No." I wrapped the pillow around my head, trying to drown out her incessant question? Demand? Annoyance!
Then, somehow, my alarm went off. I wanted to cry. I wanted to call in sick. I wanted to eat some of those semi-sweet morsels to drown out my sorrows. (I have a love of chocolate; apparently, so does my daughter.)
But what I had to do was get up for work.