I am still tired.

I've been tired since I was nine months pregnant with my now two-year-old. I was still teaching at Arts High in Newark, struggling to keep comfortable in a school with no air conditioning and an elevator that required a key (that I didn't have). I walked laps in the hallway on my preps to stay active. That seems like it was a very long time ago. Since then, I've become a mom for the first time, found out I was pregnant again when I had a three-and-a-half month old, become a mom for the second time, and juggled a toddler and an infant for over a year. Okay, so I guess I should be tired.

For me, this has been the downside of having children later in life. No regrets, for sure, but I wish I had my twenty-nine year old energy right about now. I just can't catch up. As soon as we have a night or two of everyone sleeping through the night, we have three of no one sleeping through the night -- of everyone sleeping somewhere other than where they originally went to bed. Of sleeping in the armchair. (Which, by the way, I find almost as comfortable as our Tempurpedic.) I am pretty good at waking up quickly and jumping into action, but you can only do that so many times before you start just spacing out during the day...

Yes, yes. This too, shall pass, and then I'll long for when the girls were little and wanted to cuddle and sleep with me.