I’m lying in bed with the baby in the basinet beside me and my two- and four-year-olds in sleeping bags on the floor. They’re all sick and clingy and claiming to be frightened. The oldest has been having halloween-related nightmares. Lovely, I know.
So, I’m lying here wondering if I’ll have the energy after they fall asleep to clean up the play dough that’s all over the dining room and which I should have made them clean up before we went upstairs but didn’t because I was imagining an easy bedtime after which I’d have some quiet time and a quick clean-up all by myself, big laugh. There’s still the dishwasher to unload and reload and laundry to switch and laundry to fold. And never mind catching up on any “real” cleaning.
Wait, what’s that I hear? Deep breathing? From all three? Miracles still happen then, huh?