When Monday finally fell

My Monday began at 1 a.m. I intended to be in bed much earlier. To have a long bath, maybe even really read the words in Real Simple magazine rather than just rub my fingers over the pretty, pretty pictures. Instead, I was making a ham sandwich on a mini bagel for Lil E's lunch, filling a snack bag with fishy crackers, trying desperately to think through the cloud of exhaustion rising up in my brain to come up with a poem and drawings to decorate the daily note I tuck in his "Attack of the Clones" lunchbox.

I couldn't do it. I was too tired and the note would have to wait until morning.

Ahhh, morning. Six short hours away. Five, by the time I straightened up, washed up, crawled into bed. It was not the restful sleep I needed, and it was my own fault for staying up to do more work and talking than I really needed to. Rather than dwell on what I could've/should've/blahblahblah, I put on a dress and red lipstick. My 4-inch heels didn't hide my tired eyes, but they helped me walk -- or run -- through my morning.

I sped through breakfast, coffee, traffic, preschool drop-off. From there, I headed downtown for a blogging event. I hunted for parking while on the phone with my mom, devising a list of party supplies for Lil E's birthday. I rushed into the event, drank more coffee, caught up with mama bloggers I haven't seen in a long time.

Although I had lovely mini-massage and a de-stressing cool stone eye treatment, I couldn't shake the tired-hyped feeling. I listened carefully during the presentation, asked questions, tried only to peek under the table a few times to survey the shoes of the women sitting around me. But my attempts to be quiet and still were disrupted when I knocked over my champagne glass, slashed my thumb, made everyone turn and look, and a few run for tissues, a bandage, a trash basket.

As the event wound down, my parting conversations took on a happy but high energy. I pulled myself away, rushed out the door, rounded the corner, and looked up to see the meter maid placing a ticket under the windshield wipers on my car. I was hurrying. I was too late.

The rest of the day had this pace. I felt pulled to get away from my laptop, turn off the noise, go for a long walk to stretch my legs and quiet my thoughts. But there was too much to do, and pretty soon, there was preschool pick-up and a trip to the park, dinner, laundry, a bath for the boy, and bedtime.

I only stopped when I had to.

Then, the stillness came as it often does, curled up with my boy in a single bed, with a book and kisses on damp hair, prayers of thanks for whatever kind of day it was, the same songs I sing every single night. Wrapped in each other, time unwinds, worries ease, everything seems to float out of the room. Nothing is left but the shallow breath of this child against my chest, the darkness, hours ahead to let everything else go.

There are some nights when I wish I had a partner to turn to, to ask to please go in and see why the kid is still not asleep. There are early morning hours when I have cursed the world that I am cleaning up wet sheets or tending to a sick child all alone. There are times when I wish there was someone listening adoringly on the other side of the wall while I am singing lullabies. 

Most nights, though -- this Monday night -- I wanted that bedtime all to myself. I wanted to soothe my son to sleep with the safe, happy routine that share nearly every night. I also wanted it to soothe me. Just for me. I wanted it to make the $50 parking ticket and big Band-Aid on my bloody thumb and blogging mania all disappear while we read about Henry and Ribsy, while I pulled him close to me, while I drifted off for a little while.

The work would wait another ten minutes. All of my choices aren't exactly right and I know I don't control very much anyway. No matter the mayhem, I can choose to end the first day of my work week in exactly the way I wanted to begin it. I can do that.

Comments

[selfmademom]

You can do it. And for the record you looked a whole heck of a lot put together for a woman going on 4 hours of sleep. It was great to see you!

[Viola]

That was one of your best pieces, Jess.

[Jessica Ashley]

Thank you, honey.

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Sassafrass | mommy blogging, but with better shoes |http://www.sassafrass.typepad.comShine | healthy living editor | http://shine.yahoo.com





On Wed, Sep 16, 2009 at 1:35 AM, wrote: