Some nights, after the bath, snack, bedtime, panic room sweep for bugs routine, I am too tired to think about even attempting to accomplish the smallest task.

During the day, I tell myself, while my lips are moving so I look insane, “When the kids fall asleep, I’ll work-out on the treadmill, I’ll do a week’s worth of menu planning, I’ll write, revise and write some more.”

When the kids actually do fall asleep, not only can I not bring myself to run on the treadmill, I can’t even fold my gym clothes and lift my arms high enough to put them back in the closet. The word “Menu” is written on a piece of paper and starts and ends with “crock-pot.”

Last night was one of those nights.

Ellie was clutching a small, cloth bag she was calling her purse and pulled out a loonie.

Any time one of our kids shows me money I don’t recall gifting to them, I like to get the details on how it came into their possession but I was just too tired to pry.

Ellie was clearly excited to tell me so after trying to listen with one eye open, hindered by the constant humming of the zzzzzzzzzzzzz sound from within my own head I began to walk towards the door.

Ellie: Mommy, do you want to know how I got this money?

Me (yawning): Yes honey, how?

Ellie: Daddy paid me $1 for beating him at Snakes ‘N Ladders five games in a row. He said by accepting money, I’ve given up my amateur status and now I’m playing as a professional. He said something about a tour?

Nighty-night.