The image I was initially going to use for this post was a beautiful girl, asleep on her bed.
A girl that didn’t have to lift and relocate half of her belly just to roll over on the mattress. She had a soft smile and perfectly penciled eyebrows, the kind of sleeping face only seen on super models and the regular kind.
I have three daughters, all angelic when they sleep, but still, they have smudged mascara, matted hair, and there is no peaceful sleep smirking.
Sometimes, there is slobber. Sometimes there are furrowed brows, because not everything we dream about is rainbows and sunshine.
Right into my room, the spring-forward sun has shined bright, and woken me with a not-so-pretty puffy face.
“The oak pollen is high,” my mom tells me after I finally manage to surface from under my sheets and answer the phone. While still in the comforts of my Wayfair quilt, I try and squint my eyes shut for just one more hour of precious sleep. Because, a lot of times, I actually am dreaming about super fun things like rainbows, sunshine and unicorns.
It’s a mystical place where anything can happen, and anything often does.
And I don’t want to wake up.
I’m sure it’s the extra weight that’s got me a little groggy and extra tired. I feel a little bit guilty when I hear the other moms walking by on their way to school. They push strollers and baby sisters and have dogs on leashes and 4th graders on scooters arguing about homework and the use of helmets.
I lie there in bed, listening and thanking God for every minute that I didn’t have to rise and make breakfast by 7 am. I’m out of that season now, but the truth is, I would rise faster than homemade cinnamon rolls if there were someone still at home to make chocolate chip pancakes for.
The call of the canine comes when Charlie, my new shelter dog, shakes his tag and collar so loudly it cannot be ignored, as if it to say, “Move it sister. We’re ready for our walk now.”
Pulling the covers back over my shoulder, he repeats the morning maneuver until I rise up and stand, feet firmly planted on the low pile shag carpet.
You ready for the day? Their tails wag. I sing My Dog is an Awesome Dog, off-key to the tune My God is an Awesome God, and I think he probably doesn’t mind too much. God, not the dog. The dog loves it.
Tomorrow my day will begin at 4:00 am. That’s what I’ve been telling myself all week while I stole a few extra precious hours in the morning.
Sometimes we need rest. Sometimes we need to stand up. All the time, we need to listen to our bodies and our hearts to decide which is which.
I’ve noticed that with the extra rest, there comes a greater sense of calm and an abundance of creativity. Over-doers do until they are exhausted and run down. We forget to play and have fun. We forget how much rest rejuvenates a tired soul.
Tomorrow I’m boarding a flight to the east coast where I’ve read the weather is a wintry mix. I think that means in between workshops, I will be playing in the snow and drinking hot cocoa. I can’t make a snow angel because I’m almost certain I could not get back up without making the image look like a wooly mammoth gone wild.
The Highlight of the trip will be a tour of the Boyds Mills Press Publishing house and learning all there is to know about writing books for children.
Who just like me, need naps.
And a good bedtime story.