What is the Cardinal Rule when you start sleeping through the night with your kids?

I'll tell you what it is:

DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT. DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE IT. JUST TAKE IT.

Because what happens when you talk about it?

I'll tell you what happens:

IT STOPS! AND YOUR SLEEP GOES RIGHT OUT THE DOOR.

Liz has been sleeping twelve straight hours at night since we started her on her asthma medication. So a little more than two weeks. This is the first consecutive two weeks of sleep we've had in nearly eighteen months. As a result, I have been energized and able to work out every single day. Some days I've run, other days I've done yoga or a quick circuit training DVD. Regardless of the exercise, I have done something every day. So Pete, my dear, sweet husband says to me last night, "You are transforming! I can see such a difference in you!"

(Pause for, "Awwwww!")

"Yes," I respond, coyly, "it's great that I've been able to get back to exercising."

"The only question is," he proceeds to say, quite unnecessarily, "will you be able to do it when you don't get sleep at night."

I tried desperately to remove his words from the air as they dangled above us, and drifted into the baby's room, taunting her, daring her to sleep through the night. I told him he'd be sorry for saying such audacious words. He thought, silently, "No, YOU'LL be sorry, stupid."

She woke at 11 pm and didn't go back until 3 am. I hadn't gone to sleep when she woke. I didn't go to sleep until after she wore herself out. I don't know why she was up. The only logical explanation is the taunting, jinxing words the slid under the crack of her door and woke her ass up.

So as I'm sitting in her room with her, I begin to calculate what year it will be when she goes to Kindergarten. (Half-day, only, mind you.) And after numerous calculations, and re-calculations because the answer couldn't have possibly been correct, I arrived at the following conclusion:

It will be September (the year nearly over) of...

2013.

Almost 2014.

It's presently 2009. Half-way through 2009.

I have three hours of sleep under my belt.

And I have to go over to CHOP to take Lizzy to her allergist's appointment, with another kid with a bad attitude (i.e., Meghan) in tow.

Venti latte with an extra shot will be my only savior now.