One night a woman said to her husband “I’m wiped.  I just hit my wall.  I’m going to bed.”

Then she put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher and started it; wiped the counters and kitchen table; swept and swiffed the floor; packed her three kids’ lunches—complete with notes from Mommy in pink and green sharpies; wrote some checks for school activities; signed a permission slip for a field trip; flipped the crackers in the dehydrator; picked up some dirty clothes lying about and put them in the washer and started it; put the wet laundry from the washer into the dryer and folded the dry clothes that came out of it; checked her email “real quick” to see if an email blast had gone out that needed to, and since she was online and her office was quiet, returned some emails and wrote an article for her website and blog; washed up; lit a candle next to her bed; and began to meditate–purposefully not glancing at the clock so as to not see how much time had slipped by between her “I’ve hit my wall” moment and now.

While meditating, she heard her husband come into their room and whisper lovingly, “I’m going to bed, good night.”

And you know what?  He did.

What is the DEAL with (most) women doing this night after night?  I know it’s a total stereotype, but I am willing to wage that this scenario fits 98% of women and men out there (and girl, you KNOW I’m gonna hear from the 2% who don’t, but I’ll say it anyhow).

For this Super-mom, it gets even more intense when I know it’s already late.  It’s as though I just sort of surrender to the fact that I’m going to get very little sleep anyhow, and so I may as well do “just one more thing.”

Either that or I slip into an almost psychotic form of denial about time and the fact that my children will be up and ready to rock-n-roll in just a few hours.

As I write this during the wee hours while my family slumbers one floor below, I smile as I recall moments when I’ve wondered if I’m just a little bit manic—or bipolar as it’s called these days—as I step back and observe the energy I pull out of God knows where to do that one more task that presents itself in my path as I head toward bed, dog-tired.

Since I am pretty much 100% Vata (according the ancient Indian Medical system called Ayurveda), when I “hit my wall,” that’s it…there’s no reserve.

But somehow there is.  Even though my shoulders ache from exhaustion one moment when the last moment I felt fine (a sure sign of Vata), I eek out enough energy to do one more thing—and then another, and another.

When my husband feels tired, he heads up to bed.  Whatever is in front of him can wait.  And does.

Yet, inspired as I am by his behavior, this just doesn’t happen for me—yet.  Unless I am super-disciplined and don’t even begin doing stuff at night after I put my three kids down—then I have a chance of just going to sleep when my body tells me it’s time.

But then the AM doesn’t flow as well as it could have, Sister.  You know how it is when the lunches aren’t made and the paperwork isn’t filled out that needs to go in to school…minutes count, and oh no, please not another tardy for my 11 year-old lest the principal will give me “the look” when I walk into school to drop her off.

Since my yoga practice has taught me that “There is nothing that cannot happen today” (Mark Twain), I maintain hope about this situation for me and all Super-women out there…

The only question is was Mark Twain commenting on “today” as in the day that has already begun, although I still haven’t gone to bed and it’s way after midnight, or the day that ended hours after my husband hit the hay?