I am the atypical single parent. My 2-year-old son has been in every playgroup, swimming, and art class you can imagine. Even more, I still work every day!

How do I do it, you ask. Well, here goes. I NEVER sleep! I wake up at 3:00 a.m. and fall down in the bed around 11:00 p.m.

Sometime during my waking hours, I finish coursework for my copywriting class, teach for 6 hours, market myself as an up and coming copywriter, wake my son, dress my son, get him off to school, pick him up, complete his homework, practice phonics, feed him, play with him, write something somehow, and oh that's right bathe myself.

I have no clue where the time flies - all I know is that I am tired. Once I wake up, I'm in writer mode and complete all the writing I need to get done for the day without taking my one on one time away from my son. Then three hours later, I wake him up and go into mommy mode dressing him and discussing the day awaiting him for the next seven hours. Next I'm in teacher mode and work with twenty-eight other children trying to impart knowledge that they somehow failed to receive at home or the other four years prior in school. Finally, it's back to mommy mode, when I pick my son up from school.

I'm pooped. By the time we get home and I've listened to his latest tribute to "Auntie Carroll," the name that his daycare teacher insists on being called, I'm trying to figure out an escape route into the bathroom to clear my mind.

Alas, he always has other plans. Today, as I take off his huge winter coat, he asks to ride his bike on the snow-covered sidewalk. Looking at his eager eyes and inability to stay still, I'm wondering if it's possible to let him go outside without catching pneumonia.

Of course I know that's impossible. So I take one last, longing look outside. I grab his book bag, thanking God that I was able to grade all my test papers at work today and didn't need to bring anything at home.

Wearily, I call him into the kitchen to eat his snack of apple slices and pretzels. He cheers and asks if he's going to color for his homework. I say yes and he cheers again. I laugh. Suddenly the weariness fades, reassuring me that I can keep this ritual up forever.

I'd miss an indefinite amount of sleep to hear that laugh again.

Learn more about this author, Ayesha Long.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Essays: Parenting?
We want to hear your view. Write now!