O: I'm never going to sleep. I'm going to be awake forever. You can't make me sleep and I won't.

Tonight's bedtime was epic. It was a toy-throwing, tantrum-filled, they-are-lucky-that-they-are-cute, kind of bedtime. It was the kind of bedtime where there had to be ice in the water, where P had to go potty three separate times, where we switched pajamas and rubbed lotion on their feet. It was the kind of bedtime where you wonder what you are doing wrong. (Best guess-everything)

It was the kind of bedtime that made me want a glass of wine.

I remember watching the sitcoms of my childhood, where parents happily bundled the adorable children off to bed: a story book, a kiss on the forehead, tucked in tight, done. That is not what it looks like over here. Maybe at some point, it will, but not now. Right now, it's a battle or maybe a war. Some nights we make ground, and feel like we might be winning. Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tomorrow will be different, maybe better, maybe worse, but they are asleep, for now.

Somebody, send help, or maybe just more wine.

O: Momma, you promise you will come and kiss me softly when you get home and I am asleep? But very softly so you don't wake me up, ok?

K: I promise.

I'm going to brag. I survived last week. Not only did I survive last week, but Jim, O, P and Sam survived last week. The house remained livable. Everyone ate. Most of us slept, occasionally. Success!

Tech week is always hard. It is the final push before the audience joins us and becomes part of the process. It is where all of the technical elements come together and costumes and lights and sound and some semblance of acting collide. It is hard. It is usually a lot of late nights. It is often painful. It is always magic.

There was a lot of magic this week: the talented tech crew and designers who had one only week and made everything in this complicated show work, the professional staff at the playhouse who are bravely pushing boundaries and getting butts in the seats, the phenomenal team of actors with whom I am privileged to share the stage, the fantastic babysitters who lovingly watched my girls while I worked, my incredible preschool community who would sign O out after school when I was running late, the neighbor who popped over to sit with P while she slept so I didn't have to wake her in the middle of her nap, the unbelievably supportive theatre family who filled the house during our previews and opening, the grandparents who pulled an all-nighter so Jim could be there for our first show, and Jim, who has always been there, and always will be there, encouraging me to push past my own beliefs of what I'm capable of, and who (maybe more impressive) did bedtime duty, alone, for the past two months.