Sunday Morning Confession

I woke up this morning with that feeling you have when you've slept too long - kind of what I imagine you would feel like if you got hit with a baseball bat in the head - my eyes felt puffy and swollen shut and my head hurt - not a good thing, considering my head hurt when I went to bed, I was hoping it would feel better when I woke up.

I thought I felt that way because I slept too long - have you ever noticed that the longer you sleep, the more you want to sleep. It's like you get sleepier by sleeping longer - at least it's that way for me. I often have more energy on less hours of sleep.

So anyway,  I thought I had slept too long, but when I looked at the clock it was only 7:44 am, not too late considering we didn't go to bed until 11 or midnight, and I woke up with a baby in the night. (It was a long day yesterday, you can read about it here.)

I guess I can't blame the baseball-bat-to-the-head feeling on too much sleep.

I only woke up because baby Atlas did, and since he's become very fascinated with my face lately, I had to guard my eyeballs from being gouged, and my nose from being ripped off.

Aa had fallen asleep on the bed with me - this was after she had been whining about brushing her teeth, and whining about being tired, and crying on the living room floor because she wanted 'to go to sleep RIGHT now', but was lacking the proper tools - a blanket and pillow. All this was happening at 11:30 at night, while grandma was (attempting) to sleep in the room across the hall.

To this point I'd been laying in bed letting my dear hubby get the kids ready to sleep, knowing that I should get my butt out of bed and help him, but telling myself that my head hurt too bad, and my stomach wasn't feeling well (because I ate dinner at 10pm, despite my husband's prophecies of gastric discomfort) - when this little girl lay crying on the floor because she wanted to 'sleep right now', I finally dragged myself out of bed and went to her aid.

The easiest solution was to cater to her wishes, which was to sleep with me. Hefting her, I carried her to my bed where she promptly fell asleep.

At some point during the night, I noticed that she was no longer there. When I became fully conscious in the morning (due to my ninja blocks of baby Atlas' prying fingers), I discovered her nestled among our extremely disorganized belongings in the one room assigned to us at grandma's.

If you step right outside the door to our room, you'll discovered an immaculately clean house.

I work very hard to try and keep that way (all right, I confess, it never looks this good when I clean it. This is after grandma's worked her magic. But I do make a concentrated effort to keep it in some semblance of order after my four tornadoes have torn it apart).

I have a lot of good excuses for why our one and only room is a disaster. If you're interested in them, please email me and I'll send you the list.

Really, I guess we're just messy people. I don't like admitting that (maybe that's why I'm still behind on my taxes despite TurboTax Online software?) And truthfully, I don't think that I'm messy, I usually clean up after myself. But the other six members of my family are still learning that lesson (yes, you included my Love).

I usually convince myself that owning less stuff will solve the problem.

But no matter how much stuff I eliminate, and how little we own, it still seems to get disorganized. I suppose it's not the stuff, but the habits that make the difference.

So then I noticed something this morning as I was getting up, doing my reading and drinking my herbal drink (my husband is adamant that we call it herbal drink instead of herbal tea. It's not tea, he says. It's made from parts of other plants, not tea plants. We had to make this clarification because of our flight to India when the asked Ky if she wanted tea - while we were sleeping - she said 'Yes!' We don't want our kids drinking black tea.)

Anyway, what I noticed is that I was dialoguing in my head. I'm always talking to myself, I think - going over what I need to do, and what I need to remember. But this morning I noticed I was talking to you, dear reader, and cataloging my posts in my head.

I don't know if it that's good or bad, that I'm narrating my moment-to-moment actions in a writing style, but just know that I'm thinking about you!
😉

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