Whatever my kids were passing around the last few weeks, I caught this past weekend. I spent Saturday trying in vain to ward off a sore throat, coming down with chills by the time I ventured to bed. When Sunday rolled around, I was depleted. My throat hurt something fierce and, barely able to sleep the night previous, I was truly exhausted.
It’s very seldom I take naps during the day. Someone has to be up to watch the kids, obviously, and there’s too much to do. But on weekends, when the husband is home, I tend to pass on the opportunity because it doesn’t achieve a lot of satisfaction. Kids are screaming at me from outside the door and there’s too much noise, along with my mind running a mile a minute with a laundry list of items I still need to finish. If I do manage a couple minutes of shut-eye, I only feel worse after. It’s not worth it.
Except it was worth it yesterday, when I was just so tired I could barely stay awake at 2 in the afternoon. Making it to bedtime without a brief repose would be impossible.
Finding a quiet moment to lie down, I nestled my head against the pillow, relishing in the comfort. I was so close to sleep when I heard him run in the room.
“Mommy… Mommy!… MOMMY!”, progressively louder.
I opened my eyes to find Jedi standing at the foot of the bed. “What?”, I muttered.
“I have to go potty!”
Ah, the sweet sounds my dreams are made of.