Many people contend that mini-van drivers are the worst on the road. I believe this is directly attributable to sleep-deprivation. Like millions of mothers around the world, I woke up this morning, just like yesterday morning: feeling like I didn't actually go to bed, I just took a series of short naps. The larger the family, the greater the odds that someone is cold, scared, has wet the bed, coughing, throwing up, and everyone's favorite- hungry. I have lots of tips on how to get them to stay in bed, but all bets are off when one of the latter comes to pass at night. It seems most nights recently, entail one of these states of panic, turmoil, and bleary eyed pep at three a.m., while changing the bed, the child, finding the medicine, measuring it out, and getting thrown up on. In an effort not to grow to the point of unmitigated resentment, I had a little mantra that I used to get through the most recent night, and it actually worked, and kept me equipped with an overwhelming sense of appreciation for my little darlings all day, even while I slept at the red light. So here it is, "It won't be long before they never want to be in my bed...."

Soon I will sleep soundly through the night, without interruption. There will be no child longing to just be next to me. There will be no cry for my help and comfort. There will be no fat cheek to kiss and little tears to wipe away. The house will be perfect. There will be no little handprints on the walls, no eternal crumbs around the house. There will be no little toys left in strange places like pockets, and shoes and bathroom cabinets. The tubs will be spotless with no toys to clean up. There will be perfect grass in the yard, all alive and green with no little footprints back and forth to the swing set. The yard will be quiet with no screaming and yelling and running back and forth. Meals will be quiet with no interruptions. Car rides will be quiet and peaceful with no bickering and fighting singing and laughing. Weekends will be free with no little person demanding breakfast at 5 am. There will be no crafts and crayons and glue about the house. The birthday parties will not require the colorful wrapping paper and trips to pickup toys. The nights will be quiet and I will sleep. I will sleep without interruption, and the aching sense that I wish I had stopped to appreciate the little hand in mine asking for my help, my warmth and my comfort. That really in the end, sleep will be had, one day, just not today. Today I will revel in all that will eventually end; I will love tonight.