What goes around...

Yep, that's right. Comes around.

My mom and dad torment me with stories of how awful it was to try to get me down to bed when i was little. I know they are right, because I remember it. And I remember the ritualistic mantra I had to say each time they re-tucked me into bed. After the drink of water. After the third trip to the bathroom. After going out to the living room to report that I was hungry.

"Good night. I love you. See you in the morning. Sleep tight so the bed bugs don't bite. Sweet dreams. Are the doors locked? Is my window shut all of the way?"

I could never quite understand that underlying vibe of frustration that I felt mounting with each additional time I got out of bed.

Until I had kids of my own. I'm sure, like me, they had things they just had to get done after the kids went to bed, and with each of my meanderings out of bed, they watched their own sleep time drift away.

Livvy is currently out of bed for the sixth time tonight. She just came downstairs into the office after I sent her back to bed for the fifth time. Do understand that her attempts at trying constitute usually much less, but certainly no more, than 60 seconds in bed before trudging out into the hallway again.

Mommy: "Okay, Livvy. We've gotten drinks, we've gone potty three times, I've rubbed your back, Daddy's rubbed your back. Please just go lay in your bed and try to relax and go to sleep. You have a field trip tomorrow."

Livvy goes into bedroom. Silence. Mommy goes into office to check email. Two minutes later, Livvy comes plodding down the stairs.

Livvy: "Mommy, I can't sleep. And I don't know how to try."

And speaking of awake: