It's 8:15 pm and the kids are gleefully pointing out that it is still daylight outside. They want to plaaaaay. I, on the other hand, am currently fashioning a blow-dart gun out of a drinking straw and am eyeballing the cupboards for some sedative which which to knock them out when they are least expecting it.

I'm tired.

We'll compromise, of course - they can watch a show on the television while I sit upright, snoring and pretending to be watching with them. This harkens back to my pregnant days, where I was practically narcoleptic and would babygate myself into a "safe room" and turn on the Teletubbies for hours at a time to keep my toddlers happy while I drooled into the carpet.

Of course, I'm not pregnant now (THANK GOD) but the relentless pace I've been managing for work is catching up with me in a big way. When your idea of a great weekend involves multiple naps and a hot shower both days, you know things are a little out of whack.

My oldest is showing some initiative, however. She wants to help come up with a family schedule for the summer, and meal plans and grocery lists and I'm like - GO! GO! GO! MAKE THOSE PLANS! Does this mean we'll be eating nothing but dinosaur chicken nuggets and mac and cheese? Probably. Do I care? Not so much.

Summer vacation is officially here for all three kids, and I seriously cannot get excited about it. It's been raining and cold for the last week, and this exhaustion makes me a less-fun-than-I-could-be mom. They want my attention, and need my enthusiasm, and I want to give it to them. Okay, actually, I want them to still be enthralled by the Teletubbies.

Oh hey, they want me to come watch SpongeBob! That's perfect viewing to snooze by.

I'm a real party animal these days.