Tuesday, February 22, 2011

So sleepy, yet too stubborn to go to bed.

Yearbook group picture day was today. I dreaded it, but it went just fine. I am worn out now, though--something about prolonged standing, constant worrying, trying to keep all the ducks in a row--it's exhausting. My body is also sending me reminders that I'm no longer 25: throbbing feet, aching knees, scratchy eyes. Good grief, should it be this bad already? The 100-or-so white hairs on my head tell me yeah. Cool. 

And now I hear that the twinnikins are in there having a toddler party when they should be sleeping. They've been in bed for about 45 minutes, and yet, clearly, they are both awake. Perhaps our neighbor's INSANELY loud motorcycle is keeping them up. Or maybe the sugar in the Oreos I let them have after supper. It's a toss-up: go in there and scold them/check for poopy diapers? Wait it out and see if they're on the verge of sleep? My sore propped-up feet tell me to wait and keep typing.

On nights like this when my nerves feel frayed, I long to live in the country, or even better, on a secluded beach. I would love a place with NO neighbors close by, no constantly-traveled roads or streets near my home. This scene would be best on a cool spring night. I would fling the windows wide open to let in moonlight, starlight, sweet night air and soothing sounds. Trees rustling, maybe some water lapping or waves crashing gently. I would sit in perfect stillness for minutes, hours, just breathing slowly, enjoying my solitude...

But back to the present. I no longer hear the voices of my sweet babies; they must have drifted off. A car passes by, but the driver doesn't thump his bass or rev his engine. My dog snores on the chair next to me, his floppy ears covering his eyes as he slumbers in doggie bliss. I hear my husband chuckle as he plays an online game with his brothers; I'm glad they have some bonding time this evening. It's serene...

And then Sophie shrieks. It's her obnoxious shriek, her "I am not conquered, I shall not be quieted!" shriek. Even this is a happy noise, though, a sign of my child's strong spirit, will, and health. 

I suppose I'll check on her, after all. Good night!


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