I went to sleep around 3, watching CNN.

I woke up around 6, watching CNN.

I’m tired. So very tired. I put my hair up in an unsightly messy bun, I made some super strong coffee, I found my dog lying all lazy and Garfield-like on my dining room table, shooed my kids out the door (because, you guys, they walk to school on their own now and even though I watch them from my front room window and can actually see them as they cross the one street and head into the building—ideally located home ftw!—they walk to school on their own and this is the best thing to happen to my productivity in a very long time)(I will probably have to write about this now because I can almost see the judge-y comment “OH MY GOD ALI, you let your kids walk to school on their own?!”), and went into the kids rooms to make their beds.

It’s a very good kind of tired.

It’s the best kind of tired, really.

I filled out my absentee ballot last month, with my kids at my side. We discussed hows and whys and whats. We talked about the right to vote and how so, so, very important it is. We talked about what it means to have dual citizenship and how we are so lucky that we get to have a say—to have our voices be heard—in two countries. We talked about the two candidates, the two parties. I explained why some people they know and love were hoping for a Mitt Romney win; I explained why some people they know and love were hoping for a Barack Obama win. I told them why I was voting for Barack Obama. They asked a million and a half questions, and I answered them all, as best as I could.

We talked about Facebook and the power of social media and how I haven’t really talked much about my personal politics in my little space on the internet. I have hidden some feeds of people who had hateful, hurtful comments. I have avoided some conversations—because they made me too angry, too sad, too scared. I explained to my kids that some actions of people online have been completely unproductive, but some actions have been amazing, eye-opening, and wonderful—I know some really, really, smart people.

Last night we got some Menchie’s re-enforcements, in preparation for the long night ahead of us—exit polls and predictions and pundits and lots of people with blue eyes and MATH—of waiting and waiting and waiting. I explained how the electoral college works and what the popular vote means. We discussed the different branches of government. We celebrated when certain states went blue and worried when certain ones went red. We talked about Florida (Seriously, Florida.) We had nervous tummy until we began to get cautiously optimistic.

We talked about what would happen if Mitt Romney were to win—how I would be disappointed, but he would still be the President of the United States, and he would deserve my respect. We talked about how we hoped that his supporters would feel the same if Barack Obama were to win the race to 270.

Slowly, slowly, I sent the kids to bed, one by one. They begged for just a few more minutes. They wanted to stay up to watch; they needed to see.

But, alas, bed for them. It was all very Von Trapp family kids having to leave the party.

(There were no tastes of first champagnes, either.)

This morning, after the morning rush, after I threw the kids out the door in their winter coats and hats and gloves, I pulled my lazy dog off of my dining room table, I went into Isabella’s room to make her bed, and I found this.

And smiled.