It's Saturday night at 8:30. Karyn is away for the weekend. Lizzy has been asleep for an hour. Eli is in his room, trying to design a pulley and listening to Pete Seeger singing Abiyoyo. I'm in the next room, trying to balance four months worth of bank statements. I'm determined to do it tonight.
      Eli asks me to get him some string. I don't want to. I know that walking into the kitchen and turning on the light to find the string will probably waken Lizzy. But Eli is insistent. I open the door as quietly as I can. Immediately, Lizzy starts crying. Inwardly, I curse, grab the string, and toss it to Eli. I head back to my bedroom, pick up Lizzy and nurse her.
      Just as she's finally settling back in, Eli bursts in. He wants me to tie a knot for his pulley. I whisper urgently, "Not now!" and impatiently wave him out of the room. He leaves and forgets to close the door. Light and sound stream in, and Lizzy wakens more. "Now I'll never be able to put her down!" I think angrily, imagining another night of surrendering my desires to the needs of my children.
      Eli starts crying and yelling for me from the other room. "Mama!" he wails, "I NEED YOU!" As his screaming escalates, so does my anger. I know Lizzy will never go back to sleep with his racket. I am furious that he is disturbing her sleep again. I want to scream, "SHUT UP!" as loudly as I can.
      I set Lizzy down. Instantly she cries and reaches for me. I storm out of the room and yell at Eli: "QUIET! If your yelling wakes her up, then I won't be able to help you and it'll all be your fault!" I slam his door and return to Lizzy. I pick her up and rock her. I continue to hear his crying, muted now.
      Minutes pass. As her body relaxes, so does mine. I calm down enough to reflect on Eli's simple wish to follow through on his idea — to make a pulley. I wish I could have tied the knot for him, but I am home alone with two children.
      Eli's door opens. He comes into my room, crying: "You hurt my feelings, Mama! You scared me!"
      "I'm sorry I scared you, Eli. I didn't mean to scare you."
      "Why did you do it then?" He is outraged at my betrayal.
      "I was angry, Eli. I was angry that you were waking up Lizzy."
      "But why did you leave before I could say anything?"
      "Because I left Lizzy crying in here and I wanted her to go back to sleep. I was thinking about my work. I wanted to get back to it."
      He is struggling to talk through his sobs. "But why didn't you let me say anything? You just closed my door and left. Why, Mama?"
      "What would you have wanted to tell me, Eli?"
      "That you scared me!"
      "I'm sorry, Eli. I really am." A pause. Then, "Do you want to climb up in the big bed?"
      He does, whimpering. I continue rocking Lizzy, who is asleep, but not deeply enough to put her down. Eli continues, "Why did you say 'Quiet' like that?"
      "I yelled at you." It hurts to admit the truth.
      "Why did you yell at me and then walk away?" His voice is plaintive. This is the real violation. He can't believe I did this to him.
      "I was angry. I wanted Lizzy to sleep. I'm sorry I was so angry, Eli. And I'm really sorry I scared you." Then after a moment: "You know how sometimes you're really mad and you try to hit Lizzy or bite me?"
      "Yeah."
      "Well, even grownups feel that way sometimes. I guess we both have a lot to learn about handling our anger."
      A fresh wave of indignation. "But you scared me!"
      "Eli , you were in there alone feeling scared for a long time." His crying immediately increases. The fear is coming out.
      "Do you want to sleep with us tonight?"
      "Yes." I turn back the covers and we all get in bed. Lizzy is asleep, but still suckling. I put my arm around Eli and turn toward him as much as her nursing allows. There is a long pause.
      Finally he speaks. "Mama, I wish Lizzy would just go away."
      "Where do you wish she would go?"
      "I wish she'd go back to being an egg."
      "How would things be different if she was an egg?"
      "I'd have more time with you. I'd have you all to myself." His tears come from a bottomless well. I open my heart to make room for his pain.
      "You're really wishing Lizzy wasn't around."
      "I wish she was a grown-up. Then I'd just tell her, 'Move out!'"
      "You really wish Lizzy didn't live here anymore."
      He cries even harder. I tell him: "I'm going to stay right here and listen to you." His sobs increase.
      "I'm gonna move out and I'm never going to come back."
      "Where will you go, Eli?"
      "I'll go to Mary and Lisa's." Mary and Lisa are his favorite aunties.
      "But I'd miss you so much!"
      "I'm going for a whole year!"
      "I couldn't go a whole year without snuggies!"
      "I'm going for a whole century!" He is defiant and emphatic. Then, after a moment, he asks calmly: "Mama, which is longer? A year or a century?"
      "A century is a hundred years."
      "Then I'm leaving for a hundred centuries!" Silence. Then: "I don't feel friendly to you right now." Even as he says this, he snuggles closer to me. I can feel his body start to relax. With a sleepy voice, he mounts his final challenge: "I wish you and Lizzy were buried under a giant garbage heap." Then silence.
      I feel his breathing stretch out. He asks, sleepily, "Mama, will you help me with my pulley?"
      "In the morning, Eli."
      "I'm too hot. Could you take off one of the covies?"
      I pull back the top two blankets. He sighs and burrows in.
      "Good night, Eli," I whisper. "I love you." In moments, he is asleep.