Juggling

It's time for my daughter to go to bed. She's looking at me with these crazed little eyes with red bags underneath them. Dressed in her school clothes picked out by her father (a winter long sleeved shirt with three sets of skis and snow on it and a pair of shorts) she's watching this British TV show her aunt sent her. I keep thinking that I'm going to be one of those super disciplinarian parents where my daughter is bathed and in bed by 8:30. It hasn't happened yet. Things sort of change once you actually have a kid. I used to be totally disgusted by parents who let their kids sleep in their bed. I thought they were total freaks and knew for sure I wouldn't be that type of parent. Fast forward four and a half years and most evenings I have this 35 pound four year old and her sweaty body wedged between me and my husband. At first it was, "I'm scary." Besides having her grammar wrong, I just couldn't push her away when she broke out the adjectives. I mean what type of mother would I be?
OK, I'm going to turn off the DVD, give her a hose down, read the same fairy story that needs a few pages ripped out of it, and then get her in bed. By my estimates, I could have her in bed by nine. I think.