At 9:30 I decided it was time to go wake up Emily, who was sleeping in because she was up late playing Legos Indiana Jones. I walked into her room, turned off the window fan, turned on the light to the goldfish tank, said good morning to the fish, and had a whole conversation with Emily about life and the meaning of everything including how her 13th birthday is making me feel old.
She didn't reply or move, groggily bundled in her blankets.
So I walked back down the stairs and found her sitting reading a book on the couch.
I wasted my fifteen seconds of brilliance on a pile of pillows.
And the sad part is that it would have made no difference if she was really there, looking at me with unfocused eyes.
That's what being a mom is all about. Brief moments of brilliance no one pays attention to, followed by 23 hours, 59 minutes, and 45 seconds of cleaning, whining, demanding, begging, and saying moronic things because all that brilliance exhausted me.