Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The one bad habit of tired, cranky people

I have this really awful habit. Habit-- what a benign word that is; somehow that word doesn't convey the pattern I'm stuck in. I stay up far too late when I don't work the next day (and even when I do). And I know it while I'm doing it, but that doesn't seem to stop me. And to be honest, I feel just as bad when I don't stay up too late as when I do because it's like I'm missing something-- that magic, quiet house, black outside time, when the kids and husband are sleeping and I really get to decide what I do without any input or worry for anyone else. It's a little delicious. But I feel like crap right before I finally give in and sleep, and I feel like crap the next morning too.

Bah. It's an issue, but I know how to fix it. I guess it's just that 50% of me doesn't want to, even as 100% of me recognizes what a bad habit it is...

It's like I won't even try to sleep until I'm really sure I'll just drop off. No need to lie still in the dark and think, for Pete's sake. Really healthy.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Random but honest tribute to my boys

Sometimes, I think about my children and I'm overwhelmed with gratefulness to just know the awesome people they are becoming.

My sons. You mean more to me than you will ever know. Be embarrassed, annoyed-- but know I love you more than my own heartbeat, and I'm not ashamed. I've got this whole, full life, but you are the biggest, best piece of the puzzle. I love you so. What a wonderful surprise motherhood was for me-- it didn't take me away from other things; instead, it finished me, completed all of the things I'd started previously in ways far better than I ever could have imagined. And while I might go on to do other things, even good and important things, you are the most important things, the very best of everything I've ever hoped or tried to be.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Tomorrow

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is my last day of work until August 20. The prospect of all of those structure-free days makes me giddy. I love sleeping in and deciding on the spur of the moment to go somewhere. No, no, wait-- I love waking up in the morning, getting coffee and SITTING. Just sitting while I drink it instead of getting on the elliptical, getting a shower, putting on make-up, doing my hair, stressing out over what to wear, and worst of all, sweating while I sit there, putting in rollers, looking over my shoulder at the clock.

Now, I can't lie. I'll miss the early mornings in my office, pure quiet, dressed, ready, cool. But I'll trade it for the next five weeks of nothing, blank-white-space days.

Tell your friends: summer officially begins at 2 p.m. tomorrow.


Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Rain, Rain...


         Do you feel that? The weight of the cosmos, pressing down on my head and shoulders. Getting to the bottom of why I feel the way I do, it could go a long way in helping me deal with… well, everything. It would make me a better mom, wife -- person. 
            If only it would storm. If the clouds would collect, pull into the center of the sky and let fly with the water they’re surely holding, I know I’d feel better. At least half of this heartache would be relieved, the pressure released like a tea kettle screaming. And I’m not being metaphorical. I can’t help but believe that if Mother Nature let herself go, I’d be able to. I only know that I am sporadically sad, that I don't know how to express it, and that it’s not your fault. And those are the only words I can pull out of this clear blue sky, the only thing I’ll be able to know for sure until it rains: that, as easy as it would make things, it’s just simply not your fault.
            And I love that you offer to drive me to the rain, to chase heavy clouds as they darken and arrive with the storm in some other city, some faraway state. I know I make little if any sense to you, this longing for rain, but you see that I need it, and the offer is real. I shake my head and smile, looking to the sky, because I have to see it fall here, hear it beating on the windows of our home, saturating this little square of earth we own. I look for lightening, and you come and give me some of your own, fingertips to fingertips, and I rest my weary head on your shoulder. We hold our breath and wait.

 
  

 
         

Friday, July 6, 2012

Chapter 4

Yay for writing groups and summer time to write! Chapter 4 is ready, mt bruthas. Well, it's ready for critiquing. I don't like the opening, but the rest? I like it. And that's something these days.