Forty-five

is not the same as twenty-five. It's not even the same as thirty-five.

I've been pacing the floor tonight with a fussy little buttercup. She's not happy tonight, especially not when someone puts her down. So at about 1 a.m., when I saw the fatigue in her face and posture and heard the exhaustion in her voice, I sent my Pretty Girl to bed and stayed up all night long with her pretty girl.

Now, at about 5 a.m., I have reached the end of my rope. And after only 4 hours of sleep my Pretty Girl again has peace, love, and kindness to offer the baby. She's downstairs singing, talking, and comforting.

I'm going to bed. Don't call me - I'm forty-five and I stayed up all night.