Today is the fortieth anniversary of the first moon walk. Forty years of “One Small Step,” Apollo celluloid celebrations involving Tom Hanks, and dorm room posters of the stars and stripes planted on the moon’s surface. What would life be without that scene firmly implanted on our collective psyche? What would the MTV awards be like?

Does MTV even still have awards? Or do they just convene a three-hour commemoration of the year’s drunkest 20 year-old reality star sucking face with her sorority sisters while greasing up her apartment’s stripper pole? Cuz…you know…I always used to dance on my apartment’s stripper pole while making out with my college friends.

Ah…college in the 90’s…it was a simpler, less greasy time.

Speaking of reality stars…

Lately there has been a lot of nighttime, upward gazing activity with our family. Through his brother, Paul has developed an interest in astronomy. He’s passing this on to the girls, which is actually quite cool. He found an astronomy book written by HA Rey (of Curious George fame) that has some fantastic astronomy drawings for kids. All of the pictures look like something from Curious George Gets a Medal. It’s been awesome. And amusing. Paul has a red LED pointer light that he uses to read his star map in the dark. He has found a duel purpose for it—he flickers it around the backyard in the grass and the girls chase the light around like a couple of coked-up kittens. It’s hilarious watching them chase the light around. Hilarious…and (a little) pathetic.

This past Saturday, Paul and Ava had their first father/daughter sleep over on the sailboat. This created ample opportunity for some upward star searching. Out in the middle of the lake, away from the city lights and with the favor of a nearly moonless night, they could see tons of stars, satellites, and even a little Milky Way. Over dinner the next night, Carmen and I heard all about Hercules, the Big Dipper, and Ursa Major.  As not to be left out of the fun, Carmen and I also did a little stargazing on Saturday night. That night, we had hosted an evening play date with some friends—that is—three three-year old girls ran around my house while three thirty-something moms killed three of bottles of wine.  Once the house emptied out, Carmen and I hit the back yard to see what we could see. It was nearly 11:00 at night, and well… we had quite a view. 

The whole thing has been really cool, and I totally credit Paul with pulling this out of his parenting bag o’ tricks and giving the girls a new appreciation of the skies above.

There is only one problem.

I fear all of this nighttime sky preoccupation has turned my children into lunar-loving, nighttime nymphs. Picture a chaotic rapture of mid-summer’s night shenanigans of Shakespearean proportions.

Carmen, my once adorably sweet three-year-old who used to put herself to bed at 8:00 pm (really), constantly gets up and down out of her bed between 8:30 and 11:00. Ugh.  Because the girls share a room, any disruption at all throws Ava into a total tailspin of whining (which grates on my last, pathetic, fragile nerve).  And, nothing seems to be working to get them back on schedule—we cut out TV at night, started the bedtime ritual earlier than seems humanly possible (especially given the summertime sunsets), and instituted an “I’m not messing around about bedtime” policy, complete with parental growling.

We are failing miserably.  This means…no down time or alone time. This means, one of us invariably ends up crammed on a narrow twin bottom bunk with Polly Pocket appendages poking us in the vertebrae while trying to “settle” Carmen down. 

So, as you stop to gaze up at Scorpio rising, or check out Venus in the early morning sky, or watch for a large Harvest Moon…think of me, not Neil Armstrong. I am the real hero. I’m the one with bags under my eyes wondering how a kid who falls asleep at 11:49 pm has the nerve to awaken bright-eyed at 5:21 am the next morning.