Frantic Family No More

It is 10:30 and my two year old is not yet asleep.

Frantic Family.

We have had quite the day. After spending the morning working, having a quick lunch with my parents, running a bunch of errands, and picking up our nearly 200 girl scout cookies, I am exhausted. And my kid just won’t go to sleep.

Big sister conked out the minute we got home. She was exhausted too. School does that to you. But my two year old – at 10:30 at night – got a second wind. Well, maybe fifth wind.

Frantic Family.

My house was a wreck. There were dishes that need to be done, toys scattered everywhere and I wasn’t really sure there were clean clothes for the family for the next day. All while this kid simply wouldn’t quit.

And while I try my very best to be reasonable - understanding - diplomatic – NONE of those things were working. Because it is 10:30. And it had been a very long day.

It was way past her bed time, way past my bed time, and we were all awake.

Wiggling. Squirming. Fitting. Fussing. She is no longer in the bed. She is no longer in the room. She is ready to play. And no matter what we do, there is no stopping her.

Frantic Family.

I am empty. My soul. My body. My very being. And so instead, I say to my husband, “If she won’t go to sleep, let’s put her to work.” And so we do, sorting girl scout cookies.

Working around the living room, we piled up Samoas, labeled Savannah Smiles, might have even sampled a few Toffee Tastics as we laughed, and piled, and walked in circles.

And it was lovely.

It was laughter. It was joy. It was family. And not at all frantic.