I like organization with no surprises or hitches in my daily routine. My days are prepared with military-like scheduling, complete with regimented unity by family members. Well, maybe not quite that bad but as a full time mum and wife, and part time author and freelancer, time is a precious commodity.

Most days, things run pretty smoothly, and Mum is one happy camper as she lays her smiling head in satisfaction on her pillow each night. However, there is an enemy in the midst who threatens to throw a grenade into my well planned days. I call her "The Toddler", and she is a force to be reckoned with on a daily basis.

Oh, she looks innocent enough, what with her sticky, jam-smeared face and Mr. Teddy tucked securely under her arm. But after lunchtime, this sweet, cutesy cherub transforms her arsenal of Barbies into a battalion of soldiers, prepared to do Sleeptime War with her arch enemy, the wicked Mummy.

For half the morning, we are each other's best friends. We play Barney videos, dancing and singing like Fred and Ginger. Or we happily hold hands and skip to the park for a play-date with our friends in the hope of getting "The Toddler" to burn off as much energy as possible. I marvel with a mother's heart at her creativity, her sweetness in sharing, her kind nature as she hugs her friends goodbye. And then we head home, chatting merrily about how much fun throwing pebbles down the slide is! We share a three course lunch of apple slices, jam sandwiches, and apple juice while we discuss the important issues of the day, like why Mummy's teeth are crooked and how much the cat weighs.

The clock now reads 12:54 pm, and it's that familiar time of the afternoon that she now recognises as a daily D-Day. It's not that she can tell time. It's just that Mummy has not yet come up with a face to masquerade her joy that for the next two hours, she will have some well-deserved time to herself. "The Toddler" knows this face well, and retreats in absolute terror from the Mummy Monster who threatens to take her away from her imaginary worlds of creative playtime, and whisk her off to the dungeon of doom that is her bedroom.

As sleep time approaches, I witness a change in "The Toddler" not unlike that of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. She starts her subversive counter-attack by darting away from me in full giggle. As I try to wrestle the bucking bronco into her bed, however, the laughter turns into a blood-curdling scream whose pitch can be heard by dogs in China. She then deploys chemical warfare by hurling her juice at me while yelling NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!". The last unsuccessful measure she attempts is a sneak attack whereupon she throws her blankie over my head to make me disappear!

Five minutes later, as Mum dries the sweat from her brow, "The Toddler" surrenders with fitful, sweet sleep. Her angelic face is blissfully unaware of the battle that transpired ten minutes earlier. Frustrating as Sleeptime Wars are, I can't help but dab away remnants of joy….the unbridled tears of happiness that defines motherhood…as well as that giddy feeling of knowing that the next few hours will be spent writing my next love letter to my daughter in the form of an article about her zany antics. That, or folding the washing. Sleep well, my love. At 2:43 pm., revelry sounds, and you're all mine again.

Julie Donner Andersen is a freelance writer and married, work-at-home mum of three. She very much enjoys writing humorous and serious pieces about parenting.

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Copyright 2002 Julie Donner Andersen. All rights reserved.

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