Oooh, oooh, witchy woman

Excuse me, moms out there? Can you hear me? I'm talking to you! Well not all of you, just the ones who's children sleep. Yeah, are there any of you out there? It's me, the haggard, aging faster than humanly possible, racooned-eyed woman over here.

Help me. Help me.

My children apparently think sleeping is for the dead and that time with momma is at a premium in the dark, devilish hours of the night. What they don't seem to recognize, which is completely unfathomable, is that momma is not nice, not really, not in the dark. She is why 3 AM is called the "Witching Hour". So why, dear fruit of my womb, would you want to demand the presence of a strung-out zombie when you could be frollicking in dreamland with nice momma, sweet momma. Momma that is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (Can someone explain that saying?).

Better yet, wait until the sun comes up, she's had a cup of coffee and the wisdom of scripture to guide her.

And wisdom right now says to step away from the computer and tend to the ever-growing morning demands before my computer is taken hostage and held for the steep ransom of chocolate milk and Dora.