Aim low and you won't be disappointed. I took the kids to the pool yesterday, yay me! They had a half a bagel before we left, so were famished by the time we got out of the water. Home, hung up the suits and towels, and French toast with berries and whipped cream, eggs with bacon bits and sausage, and ice water. I only had the eggs and berries, but believe me, I wanted the whipped cream. It's the squirty kind in the can, and we were supposed to save it for Thanksgiving pie, but no one opened it, and hey, if it's open, it's fair game in this house.
This afternoon there's a college basketball game, and yes, I am working at it. Stay At Home Mom, ha.
At 4:45 this chilly morning, Duke started in on his intermittent barking. It wasn't his Stranger Is Here barking, which he does even when Paul comes home from work, it was his Have To Go Out barking. Just a bark...then I would start to drift back off...then another...I waited to see if anyone else possibly heard him and would be the nice one, but hah. Me, it was. Brr. Both of the dogs wagged and wagged when I came out, happily thinking it was morning. I let them out, and waited fifteen minutes for them to run wild and explore important things, and probably go to the bathroom too. They thought it was food time too, but no way. I patted their naughty heads and went back to bed. My bed was so warm and comfy and I had over two more hours before I had to get up. I closed my eyes. I thought of things. I thought of how much I grumbled when I had to get up. I thought of how tired I would be later when I had to work at the basketball game. I thought of how easily I slip into being not very thankful. I talked to God about things. I thought about how Christians can be critical and judgemental, and how I don't want to be like that.
I didn't like it, but it was good for me.
And then of course, at 6:30 when Paul got up, I talked to him...then fell asleep. Right when I had to get up. Then I had an awful dream, that Paul was sitting in a chair, leaning back all tired. In the dream it was obvious he was very sick. I leaned over and kissed his stubbly cheek, and told I loved him, then I teased him and said, "what's left of you." A horrible thing to say, and I feel bad even though it was only a dream. He was so thin and tired, then he closed his eyes and started sobbing, and I kept kissing him and telling him how much I loved him...then I woke up. And wanted to get into the van and drive to his work and hug him. It was just a dream. But the feelings I felt were real. The feelings I had when I woke up were real. I do love him, even if he makes bonebroth and komucha tea, pickled carrots and homemade saurkraut, and messes up the kitchen, and leaves socks on the floor. I love him. I am glad for that bad dream....
And I have kids to talk to and to teach...and enjoy.