I'd like to hibernate upstairs in my bedroom nestled between pillows and quilts with an endless supply of tissues, hot spiced cider, good reading material and silence.
In fact, I'd like to stay there for a few weeks.
Then one night I'll slip off to the beach alone under twinkling stars and heavenly moonlight. I'll have the baby right there by the seashore, then swaddle him up and wander back along our palm-tree-lined street just before dawn, returning to civilization with a new body and a refreshed spirit all radiant and sparkling for the new year.
My fantasy is a bit tongue-in-cheek, of course, but I can dream.
None of this would fly in real life around here. Today, healthy or not, I'm needed. I'm important. Vital even. Today that is just barely enough motivation for me to be an active participant in the day going on around me.
There's a little girl here who also has a cold and needs to be convinced to wear long sleeves and socks. She requires dozens of coloring pages and hot lemon-and-honey drinks to battle through her uncomfortable day.
And the little boy who lives here has recovered from his cold already. His energy has returned and he needs someone to read to him, retrieve the Play-Doh box from the highest shelf and admire his new-found skills of peeling his own oranges and cracking his own peanut shells.
On the eve of this Thanksgiving Day, my mommy-blogging contemporaries (if I may humbly place us in the same category) are waxing sincerely, creatively and poetically about gratitude here and here.
I'm finding it hard to churn out more than a few intermittent posts that sounds more like griping than gratefulness. But don't be fooled by my current mood. I am grateful.
Sunshine and warmth are streaming through my windows. My husband is trying desperately to leave work early today so I can get a nap while he bakes pumpkin pies with the kiddos.
And this little boy keeps popping out of his play tent to offer me coffee and hot cocoa.
Oh, I recognize the blessings around me. I just can't harness the brain capacity required to present them in pretty prose right now.
"Then one night I'll slip off to the beach alone under twinkling stars and heavenly moonlight. I'll have the baby right there by the seashore, then swaddle him up and wander back along our palm-tree-lined street just before dawn, returning to civilization with a new body and a refreshed spirit all radiant and sparkling for the new year."
ReplyDeleteSeriously? I love that paragraph. LOVE it.
And I love your little boy offering you coffee and cocoa! So sweet!
And I hope you and your daughter feel better soon. I'm starting to think colds are contagious via the Internet!
If you DO perhaps manage to give birth on a moonlit beach, you're going to have to use all your historically pretty prose to tell that story. I'd pay money for it!
ReplyDeleteNot that all your prose isn't pretty...it is. And if anybody should be wanting to be included in anybody elses category, it's ME into YOURS. You rock :)
Happy Thanksgiving Eve!
PS - Mia has that same pink/white/gold shirt! It's a favorite.
I'm so sorry you and L aren't feeling well. Hopefully N will be home soon to take over and you can hibernate in your room for awhile.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I'm with Sarah, You Rock. Feel better soon, chickadee, and have a happy Thanksgiving!