Ever since my youngest started sleeping through the night I entered a new phase I like to call “sleep”.

Rumor has it hormones have plans for me down the road that might impact my sleep again so I am treasuring this time of sleep.

Making up for missing out on real sleep for five some years I make sure to hop into bed around nine in the evening so I can wake up at seven (or earlier) nearly every day. It’s glorious.

Except, I do still have young children who sometimes wake up at one in the morning and continue to stay awake until four. The difference between before and now is before maybe I endured the sleeplessness better? Or maybe before I was in such a state of little to no sleep that I didn’t notice when I got sleep versus when I didn’t?

Last night I fell asleep after a lovely conversation with my husband. Rarely, all three boys went to sleep before nine o’clock.

At one in the morning there was a knocking at our door and I knew my sleep was over.

Today I am cranky, struggling, and annoyed with myself. Plus, the four year old is home with me and has lots of energy.

He is singing upstairs. Coloring at my feet. Asking a million questions. Running the floor pants less.

He doesn’t have responsibilities. Or an alarm. Or other children to tend to.

He is also a bundle full of life, joy, and curiosity. He snuggles, offers hugs that linger, and is a reminder of what keeps me going in over all.

Sleep. It will come again another day.