Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Hey there Mr. Sandman

I come home from work most days tired, but ready to take on my "home list"

I transition from balance sheets, meetings and negotiations to laundry, dinner & homework.

This time of year there is always more to be done after the kids have gone to bed. Wrapping gifts, online shopping...putting away the laundry. Ahh my nemesis, laundry.

For the record Super Son has asked the last 3 nights in a row when his clothes would be back in his room so he could get dressed before coming downstairs. I think tonight will actually be the night it gets done. Our laundry room is looking a bit like a messy version of this these days, but I digress.

Bedtime routines are for the kids. Warm bath, lotion, teeth brushing, tucking in, story time and maybe a few extra snuggles for good measure.

What happens to me each night from the moment I put my foot on the bottom stair and begin my ascent has become a bit of a joke. Nevertheless I have a plan that goes something like this.

1. Put kids to bed
2. Go back downstairs and do something productive

My well laid plans are discarded as their bedtime has somehow morphed into mine. They smell so nice fresh and clean, their beds are warm and cozy, the lights are low and the house shushes for them. Can you really blame me?

Some nights I fall asleep in their beds, but most I stagger down the stairs seemingly drugged by the routine and fall into my own bed. A book, maybe a little TV, sometimes some knitting and I'm out.

Forget posting on the blog, returning overdue emails, putting away laundry, emptying the dishwasher or packing lunches.

I marvel some nights as a I wobble along to find Hero Husband returning from a trip to the grocery store (God love the man, he does virtually all of our shopping) or the gym glowing with accomplishment. I do my best to scowl, but really it is just envy. I love my lists and checking things off. I have been known to write things I just did on my list just so I can check them off. I want to spend those hours getting things done,

BUT

I don't want to trade those last sleepy kisses, twilight conversations about dinosaurs or what happened during your day that I don't already know about for a little bit more efficency. I don't want gain one more check mark on my list if it means I have to miss the sweet puff of breath against my shoulder and the warm weight of their love pressed against me as they surrender the day.

So I have my plan, but most nights am completely happy to come downstairs sleepy.

Hey there Mr. Sandman fancy meeting you here again. Is that a tempur pedic pillow in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

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