As a child, I would read or watch the most amazing stories. To be able to clap your hands and create anything as long as you knew and possessed their chemical compositions, to travel across the land fighting off the dead, to be the world’s first female knight.

All of these stories inspired me, and they told me that as long as I held my ground and worked hard, I could achieve anything. In real life, they tell you the same thing. The American dream, anyone can work their way to the top. They just neglect to say what it will cost you.

Erik was asleep when I got home in the early morning. All I wanted to do was collapse, but I hadn’t had the chance to eat anything all night. I rummaged through the fridge, trying to find something quick to eat, maybe some Mac and cheese? No, that would take too long. The kids would be up in less than an hour.

I sighed and resigned myself to getting as much sleep as I could before the kids woke up.

I climbed over the baby gate, tripping over the edge for the second time that day, and climbed into bed, not even bothering to undress.

Erik was snoring peacefully, and though I knew I shouldn’t, I snuggled into him. Burying my face deep into his chest. He was warm, so wonderfly warm. I hadn’t gotten to spend time with him in weeks, so those times were precious.

I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Irish springs body wash and closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. Now that I had finally stopped moving, my feet began to announce their complaints at the days abuse, sending painful throbs up my calves. I closed my eyes tighter, trying to ignore it, but the ache only intensified.

I checked the time on my phone, thirty minutes until my alarm went off. “Please,” I whispered to no one in particular, “I just need a little sleep. Just a bit.”

As soon as my conscious started to fade, Erik’s alarm went off, and the cooing of playfull babies filtered in. “Erik, is there anyway you can go in just a few hours late? I got back late from work again and haven’t slept at all. I just need an hour or two.”

“I’m sorry love, it’s Thursday. I have labs on Thursdays, and I can’t miss it.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot it’s Thursday.”

He got dressed and leaned over to give me a kiss goodbye. “I love you,” he said apologetically. 

“I love you too,” I replied, holding back tears. I knew it wasn’t his fault, we were doing what we needed to in order to survive and provide for the twins. But it didn’t make it any easier knowing that.

Hearing the twins babbling become louder, I slapped my cheeks and crawled out of bed. Opening the door to their room, I walked into a nightmare. They had figured out how to get their pajamas off and had discarded their diapers. Kaylee was on tip toes in her crib, Evan with his hands in a fresh diaper. Tiny, brown stained hands marking the walls, bed, and carpet.

“Oh, no, no, no!” I yelled, scooping up the twins. They were completely covered head to toe.

After cleaning them off in the bath, I grabbed all the cleaning supplies I could find and started scrubbing down their room. I wasn’t even half way done before Kaylee started screaming for Nom noms.

“Okay, okay. Let’s see if there is anything easy to make.” I would have killed for some simple cereal or oatmeal, but we were out. Even eggs seemed like too much an effort, but they would have to do.

I gave the twins their eggs and sat down on the couch across from them to eat mine. An hour later, I woke up. The twins were nowhere to be seen, and our eggs were scattered all across the floor. I had passed out.

I flung myself off the couch in a panicked flurry. The baby gate had been knocked down, I rushed past and down the hallway into our bathroom, calling their names.

I found the twins in a desert of kitty litter. An entire bag had been emptied onto the bathroom floor and into the toilet, the twins sopping wet and covered in a kitty litter mud from head to toe.

I didn’t care about any of it, I was just so glad they were okay. I scooped them both into my arms and held them tightly, sobbing loudly.

Evan took his tiny hand and swept away my tears, “No cry, Mommy.”

I let out a half laugh, half sob, and put my hand to his, forcing a smile. Right, I could do it for them. “Let’s get you guys cleaned up, Mommy’s bathroom isn’t a beach, you know!”

I gave the twins their second bath of the day, cleaned up the mess of eggs, finished cleaning the twins’ room, fed the twins lunch, and finally cleaned up the kids’ homemade beach.

By the time I was done, Erik was getting home, and it was already time to go to work. Time for it to start all over again.

I gave Erik a big hug hi, and bye, and left. Just ten more hours, I would finally get at least two hours of sleep, I thought. And just nine more years, and it’s all over.

This is the story of the American dream that nearly killed me.