A great splashing noise issues from behind the closed restroom door, and I can hear one of my twin girls shrieking indignantly. I set down the spoon that I’m holding onto Jenna’s tray, and she makes an angry noise and bangs her little fists on the tray, spluttering.

“Just a moment, love.” I say softly, scooting back in my chair and making my way past the island in the kitchen into the living room to cross into the restroom.

“Mama!” Two year old Nancy shouts, tugging on my pant leg. I get down on one knee, pulling her close and fixing her tousled brown hair: Nan is the only one of my four girls who looks like me at all, the other three have the dark, raven hair and big, crystal blue eyes of their father.

“I hurt my knee.” She says in such a soft, sad voice that it breaks my heart. I scoop her up, setting her down on the couch and popping in a Sesame Street tape from the basket under the television. A glance at my watch tells me it’s almost eight o’clock, way too late for my third child to be watching TV, but I need to distract her while I go to take care of the twins.

“Just a minute, darlin’.” I say quietly, standing up and half-sprinting my way to the restroom, swinging the door open. Lorelei and Lisette freeze from their positions standing in the water, their big, six year old eyes wide.

“She started it.” They say in unison, pointing at each other. I notice a very small amount of tepid water in the tub, and the vast majority of the rest splashed over the side. I glance from the water to my girls, a stern look crawling over my features. Lorelei immediately bursts into tears, shame pouring over her like water from a bucket. Lisette looks more disdainful, angry that she’s been caught out more than anything else.

“Oh, Lor.” I say softly, reaching into the linen closet and extracting a towel. I reach into the bathtub, lifting out the younger of the two twins and wrapping her in the large, fluffy towel. A large tear rolls down her cheek and she shivers, hugging herself and making tiny whimpering noises.

“Lisette said that I was a baby and I was too a’scared to get my head wet so I put my head in and then she tried to hold me under and so I kicked her but she didn’t care and I-” I place a finger gently yet firmly over her mouth, and she shuts her lips, staring at me with a very sleepy-eyed look. Lisette stands in the tub, hands on her hips, an appraising look running up and down my body.

“I don’t need your help, I’m not a baby.” She says, hostility oozing from every pore in her body, and Lorelei starts to sob all over again, tears absolutely shaking her kindergartener’s body.

“I’m not a baby either-r-r-r…” she splutters. I shake my head at Lisette, setting a towel within her reach on the countertop and carrying Lorelei into the twin’s bedroom. I set her down on her bed, opening the chest of drawers and pulling out a nightgown.

“Come on, sweetie.” I say, my patience wearing thin as I try to pry my daughter’s folded arms apart. She releases the towel and lets me tug a nightgown on over her head. As I’m holding her panties out for her to step into them, Lisette enters the room, bone dry and wrapped in a towel. Lorelei stiffens and stumbles trying to get her second leg into her underwear, and I have to refocus her before she manages to get the gall mustered to pull them up herself. Lisette finishes dressing herself and sticks her tongue out at her sister when she thinks I’m not looking, and I give her a meaningful look.

“Why don’t you two pick out a bedtime story, and Nancy and I will be in in just a minute.”

“Oh, mama, no.” I hear Lorelei’s tiny voice plead. “Can’t it be just me and Lissy tonight?” Her eyes are widened with sadness and trauma, and Lisette rolls her eyes indifferently and goes to sit on the side of her own bed.

“Okay, Lor, but just tonight. Nancy hates to be left out.”

“I hate Nancy.” Lisette says vehemently.

“That’ll do, Lisette Regan Resse.” I snap before turning on my heel and going to take care of Nancy, who, upon walking by to get to the medicine cabinet, is still glued to Elmo. Good. I pull out a band aid and some Neosporin and walk over to her, pushing up her nightgown and placing the band aid gingerly over her knee.

“Thank you, mama.” Nancy throws her little arms around me, squeezing me tightly. “Is it my bedtime now?”

“I’m afraid so, dearheart.” I pick her up and take her into the room she shares with Jenna, setting her down on her big girl toddler bed and brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Have sweet dreams tonight, okay?” She nods, the sleep inside of her slowly coming out and taking shape in the form of a very large yawn for a very small girl.

“Night night mama…” After I pull the covers over her and plant a kiss on her cheek, she doesn’t even ask for a story before she falls asleep immediately. What a relief; I’m not too sure I could have handled that one otherwise.

I can hear the garage door open up, and I breathe a sigh of relief: Damien must be home now. I run to the kitchen to give him a hug as he enters, and he gives me a large kiss and squeezes me tight around my waist.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, and I can smell the cigarettes on his breath that he must have smoked in the car on the way home from work. I frown visibly and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll change before I do anything else, Aar.” He says pleadingly. “And I’ll take care of Jen-Jen for you.” I hate his pet name for our fourth and last daughter, but I can’t say anything much about it.

“Thanks,” I say breathlessly. “I need to go take care of the twins.” He nods and disappears up the stairs to the master bedroom to change out of his suit, and I go back into the eldest girls’ room.

Lisette is already asleep, having seemingly tipped over sideways sitting on the side of her bed. I smile to myself and walk over to her, my oldest, my first baby, and move her legs onto the bed itself, tucking her under her quilts and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, Lissy.” I say quietly as I smooth her hair out, and I feel her stir under my hand.

“Mama?” she says, her voice cracking.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” I murmur, and her eyes remain closed.

“What about me?” I hear Lorelei’s timid voice from her bed. She sits, legs dangling over the side, clutching a faded and war-torn copy of Goodnight Moon to her chest. At least she picked a short one, I think to myself as I sit down beside her and help her under the covers.

“In the great green room…” I begin, and I feel her snuggle into my side and slowly shutting her eyes. “…goodnight noises everywhere.” Finishes the book up, and Lorelei is totally knocked out, clutching my shirt to her like it’s a life preserver. I detach her somehow, setting the book on the nightstand, and tuck her back under her covers. “I love you too, Lor.” I say so quietly you would barely be able to hear it. She lets out a great sigh and turns over. I stand up, setting the girls’ water cups on their respective bedside tables and slipping out of the room.

As I stand in the hall, I can hear Damien putting Jenna to bed, humming her a very soft lullaby. I can hear the deep baritone of his voice, usually not one that would be associated with a lullaby, but it works for some reason with my husband. I walk down the hall to put away Jenna’s baby food jars, hearing the strains echoing through the eaves of the house…

…go to sleep my darling, close your little eyes. Angels are above us, peeping through the skies…

…I always suppose that this lullaby that Damien holds so dear has something to do with his upbringing for obvious reasons, and I feel myself release a sigh as I put the jar of sweet potatoes back in the refrigerator. He would know if angels were above us doing anything, wouldn’t he? I can hear him moving into another song…obviously Jenna is being quite fussy this evening. I walk back to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe so that I won’t be seen.

“Daddy…” I can hear Nancy’s covers rustle, and I realize that it’s not Jenna who’s having trouble, but Nancy. I peer my head around the corner, seeing Damien sit on the edge of her bed and reach over to rub her back as he continues to sing, and I sigh quietly and go back to our own bedroom. Sound travels very easily in this old house, though, and I can still hear the faint stirrings of a lullaby travel through…

…let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine…

…I sigh quietly and cover myself up in bed, lying back and turning out the light. In a moment Damien will be back here himself. I shut my eyes and hear him finishing up, repeating the first verse and putting particular emphasis on “rest your head close to my heart, never to part”…apparently Nance isn’t letting go so easily tonight. I feel myself drifting, and about fifteen minutes later, Damien slips into our room.

“Hey honey.” I say, my voice husky with sleep. He lies down beside me, rolling over and sliding an arm around me.

“I love you Aara.” He says by way of greeting, and we both promptly fall asleep, worn out by our day’s excursions. You can still hear faint strains vibrating through the house, leftover energy from Damien’s bedtime rituals when he’s home, and it’s that that is the last thing I can remember before falling asleep.

…if they knew sweet little you, they’d end up loving you too; all the same people who scold you, what they’d give just for a chance to hold you…