I have a hard time going to bed. It’s not because i’m not tired. I’m exhausted and in ‘pajamas’ by 8pm. (If that’s wrong, I do not want to be right)
It’s the quiet. I want to soak it in. Inhale it. Taste it. Savor it.
I love my kids, blah blah blah, and that is why I relish the evening quiet. I am (usually) happy to cater to my family, answer the 324,000 mundane, entertaining, monotonous, clever and obvious questions I am asked daily. I fetch clothes, shoes, boogers and butt wipes with a modicum of appreciation. I do dishes and sometimes will even do laundry. Once in a while I will close my eyes and thank the stars I do not have to hoof it to the laundromat with children in tow like I witnessed countless times in my 20’s.
Because of these things, the evening is that much more luxurious. I can watch whatever the hell I want and not have to pause for a drink refill for someone who cant reach the milk. I am not having to rack my brain and hide fingers to count on so I am able to help my son with his second grade math homework.
It’s just me and my own time.
(my husband is currently traveling for work)
That is why it is so hard to give in, put down the remote, kindle, phone, ipad, controller, and/or mouse and leave the infinite selfish possibilities to do something as seemingly useless as to sleep…. Until i wake up and kick myself for not having the foresight to allow my brain to properly recharge.
That hindsight is such a bitch! A frequent and smug bitch.
Now I must go shake the dust from my brain and force myself to read a book.
Goodnight sweet quiet night. God willing, I will see you tomorrow