Okay, actually 9:34.

I just finished singing my wee monsters to sleep, with my should-be-patented medley of classic lullabies and television theme songs. Actually, the two oldest kids went down fairly easily, one or two bungled songs into my vocal stylings. My youngest rested in my arms, her legs clinging, butt wiggling, thumb in her mouth, pointer finger from that same hand jammed in a nostril, and her other hand clamped on my earlobe.

I suspect that if I let go of her, she would dangle from my ear.

I'm not going to blame my lyrical indiscretions on the wine I'm drinking from a stemless vessel - what do you call the short drinking glasses? The tall ones are high-ball glasses right? Could the shorter ones be low-balls? I AM going to blame my apparent NDS* on the wine, at least tonight. The kids normally get the blame.

*NDS - the ever popular Noun Deficiency Syndrome - where one stumbles over and over while trying to remember the name of "you know, that thing. The thing, you know, that thing that does, I mean, goes like this? The thing. Stop giving me that look. You totally know what I'm talking about."

Drinking a burly red from a low-ball is nice. Plenty of room for the swirling and sniffing.

Anyhoo - after the "Cheers" theme put my two oldest under, I started in on my youngest's traditional lullabies. She let me get a verse into "What a Wonderful World" before she started chiming in on every third word or so, popping her thumb back in her mouth for noisy sucking in between her outbursts. She got really excited and extra vocal for "I Will" and I knew I would have to shift to unfamiliar territory to get her to settle down.

When the theme from Wonder Woman failed to work, I ended up lulling her to sleep with a dirge-like rendition of America the Beautiful.

As I laid her down in her tiny little bed and kissed her puckered lips, she sighed. I tucked the blankets around her, smoothed the covers over the other two kids, and stood in the hallway for a moment to listen to the sounds of their breathing. This is one of those things you never believe you will do, before you are a parent.

You can't have any idea, until you've slept with one eye open, and a hand resting lightly on a child's chest, sure that one moment of inattention will bring calamity. The sound of my loud, mouth breathing, slumbering children brings a sense of accomplishment to my heart, along with a shot of irrational fear. I'm long past believing that my vigilance is the only thing that keeps their hearts beating, but the sense of power and sheer helplessness that was passed to me at the time of their birth keeps me supersticious.

Monday, I applied artificial nail tips in an effort to stop my incessant nail biting. I've got 8 tips still on, but the usefulness of the two nekkid fingers is taunting me. "Don't glue plastic back on us...no, no...why don't you free our brothers and sisters...you can't function with princess hands..." Frankly, I'm shocked how long they've lasted. I'll give it one more go, and replace the victims of repeated collisions, but I don't see any way that I'm going to keep them on, unless I cease all activity. I'm just a clutz.

Okay, well. I've polished off my glass of wine, and the hubs has sauntered in from a poker game with 900 boxes of girl scout cookies. Yes, that will be GREAT for my healthy eating plan.

I'm such an ungrateful woman.