It's been a really good day, the first in a long time. I'm feeling kind of high on it, or high from only three hours sleep.

David has a cold, a stuffed nose, a fever. David had to cry a lot all night. I don't mind walking through the living room, around the kitchen chairs, down the hall, and back into the kitchen in the dim glow of the porch light. I don't mind him screaming and whimpering. He actually calmed down after 10 minutes and we slept on the couch for an hour—at 12, 2, and 4 last night. I don't even have a crick in my neck, but I mind getting out of bed. I hate that moment when he's screaming in my arms and I realize I have to wake up fully, put on my blue fuzzy, green hat, and purple slippers, gently lay the panicking baby into the sling and go downstairs to keep him from waking Rose.

Talking about Rose, we were driving back from the park. I had all the kids in the mini-van: Rose and David in the middle seats, Miriam and Ariana in back. I gave Rose the ubiquitous bag of cheese. She counted all the pieces and made sure everyone got the same amount of cheddar and mozzerella.

At dinner, Ariana dropped her milk on the floor. "Mommy, help me." But before Julia could get there, Rose stood up and handed Ariana back her sippy cup.