I’ve been enjoying a bit of R&R these past two weeks, since my two little darlings have been stationed in New Mexico with my mom and two sisters for our own version of “sleepaway camp.” They’ve enjoyed plenty of one-on-one attention, new toys, shopping trips and treks to the park while Steve and I have returned to our lifestyle of brunches with friends, spontaneous day trips up the coast and outings to the movie theater after 8 p.m.

But now more than two weeks into it, my poor sister Sandy is starting to sound like me on the phone. “They don’t pick up their toys!” “I had just sat down when Kate asked me to get up and get her something.” “JACK! Don’t step on that!” she’ll squawk in the middle of our phone chats.

Not that she’s complaining; it’s just that having two energetic kids around is hard work. Let’s just say it’s nice to have someone wear your shoes for a while and know that you’re somewhat justified for losing it every now and again.

But bedtime for Aunt Duckie, as the kids call Sandy, seems to bring the biggest challenges for my otherwise composed and fun-loving sister.

These are Aunt Duckie’s words:

Yeah, they’ve had a hard time getting to sleep. Maybe it’s because they’re in the same bed. Last night, Kate was exhausted, but I could hear singing in there. A little while later, Jack came staggering out of their room.

I said, “Jack! Get back into bed! I’ve already told you that you guys can’t get up once you get in bed.”

“But Duckie, I just wanted to please ask you to turn off the reading light. I sang lullabies to Kate until she fell asleep.”

[Awwwwww.]

So I took him back to bed. Still all cute, he said, “Duckie, can you sing me a lullaby till I fall asleep?”

So I start to sing, “Lullaby, and good night…” but not before suddenly realizing I don’t know the words to “Lullaby, and good night.” So I made something up, and he fell asleep.

Before bed I went to check on them. Jack was face-down on the floor with his nose and mouth buried in some fluffy pillows.

He weighs 50 pounds (I know this because I weighed him the other day), so I struggled and grunted and somehow maneuvered him back into bed. His skin was all hot, sweaty and clammy, and I was worried that he’d fallen off the bed and buried his face too long. I rolled him over, trying desperately not to wake him (or Kate) but was also checking his breathing, just in case.

Suddenly, with his eyes still closed, a big smile spread across his face.

“Did you think I was dead?” he whispered.

I told him, “No, I didn’t think you were dead,” but I was secretly feeling like it was going to be a big deal if everyone makes it through the night. I crawled back into bed at about 3 a.m. Just as I was drifting off, I heard, “Duckie?” quietly at first, then a “Duckie!”

There, standing at the door, was Kate.

Me? I slept great.

Jack & Ema (my mom) enjoying the swing after a good night’s sleep.