I Didn't Want to Go...But I Did...

As I write this, I'm cradling a BIG cup of coffee that I never intend to put down.

Last night sucked, like of the royal suck variety.

We transitioned Claire (18 months old) into a toddler bed two days ago and for the most part, she's been handling it like a champ...until last night.

After more iterations of "Good Night Moon," then should be allowed, more singing of the "A,B,C's" than I care to claim, and more "Where's your nose?  your eyes?  your belly button?" and "Mama loves you," our sweet little angel turned into poltergeist.

Unable to stay asleep in her bed for more than two hours, even after two stints at the pool yesterday, I finally made my way to the couch for the night.

Wailing like a wounded dog with her nose permanently stuck under the door, I finally put her in our room at 5:00am, just in time for me to grab my shoes, a banana and a whole lot of self will to get out the door and run.

Why do kids always jack things up?  I mean that in the most loving way possible.

You have good intentions of getting a good nights sleep, waking up to a strong workout so that you can do everything during the day for your loved ones...and then, they suck the blood right out of you.

I remind them regularly that it's a good thing their grandparents keep tabs on them or I'd sell them...we need the money.