I finally trudge myself upstairs to go to bed, but first, my ritual. Stand over the baby's crib and ooh and ahh at how cute and peaceful he looks, get jealous that that's not me and leave. Next stop, stand over my daughter's bed and kiss her head, get jealous that that's not me and leave. Flop into bed thankful that I have the most comfortable bed ever.
Fade out to me tossing and turning suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere thinking about when I was younger. More specifically, about a time that I caused my parents some serious heart damage and most certainly gave them grey hair - well, gave my dad a grey beard that's for sure.
Oh, it starts out like every jaded teenager wanting their independence and not getting it in the way they want. So what better way to stomp my feet then to run away from home and go to the boyfriend's house, you know, the boyfriend who I thought I would marry any minute now and live happily ever after - yeah, him. All teenage girls have at least one of those. Who did I think I was? Running away to his house, my parents calling his mom, said boyfriend "stashing" me at his friend's house only for me to end up going home anyways because, really, what did I think was going to happen?
This memory causes me to jump out of bed, check on my oldest and see her sleeping peacefully with her comforter covering up her mouth and see her hugging her ladybug "pillow pet." I give her a kiss and get back into bed and finally fall asleep thinking that if I'm lucky, I have another 5 years before MY grey hairs start sprouting.