Earlier this afternoon, as that magical silence known as Both Kids Napping at the Same Time fell over the house, I stood shock-still in the middle of my living room, wondering what I should do next. I thought about my three-foot-long to-do list and took a long look around me at the debris left over from Hurricane Children. I stood a little while longer, then turned on my heel and made a run for our bed. I pulled those cool sheets over my head like I was trying to block out the noise of all the responsibilities hollering at me to pay attention to them. I just didn’t want to deal with them. I couldn’t face the laundry baskets full of folded clothes that needed to be put away. Didn’t really want to investigate if that vague smell of pee I noticed in the family room was of child or animal origin. And I was cowed by the balls of dog hair that were starting to drift across our hardwood floors like tumbleweeds in an old western movie. If I were a child, I’d have thrown myself on the floor, given it my best tantrum and screamed “I don’t wanna! I don’t WWWWAAAANNNAA!” But I’m not two. I’m a grown woman. So I crawled into bed instead.