Yes, I would like some cheese with my whine

Six children is already a great many children. We're spinning plates like mad, making sure homework is done, extra-curricular activities are attended punctually, no one is dabbling in the occult. The plate representing a clean and orderly home fell off its stick long ago, and crunches sadly under our feet as we dash about, keeping the others from falling. Not unlike the sound our feet make in the actual kitchen. I'm going to have to blame that on the pregnancy, and I don't care if it's even the real reason for the mess.

Sleep has taken a serious hit around here, as well. I fall in bed no later than 8:30, but children and pets conspire against me to be sure I don't get too much of that precious commodity. A typical night, I wake up again around 11:30 or 12, when our oldest is just climbing into bed after having completed several hours of homework. "I have practice early tomorrow," he says, when I go to check on him. I sigh, and set my alarm back fifteen minutes, to 4:45. Sometime in the wee hours, the dog decides we need protection from the local wildlife. Feeling some responsibility to the sleep of the neighbors, Matt and I throw on clothes and go try to shut her up. If all goes well, I'll sleep what's left of the night 'til the 4:45 am alarm, unless the 5-year-old has a bad dream.

At least I'll be prepared for the new critter, who is unlikely to sleep any more than that.