This is Week Two of “The Plan.” The Plan where I get up early every morning to either run or write and I get to bed early so that The Plan is a little less painful. The Plan stinks. It hurts. Getting up before six every morning is pretty lame if you ask me. I have succeeded in getting to bed a little earlier at night – never early enough though – but I really don’t know if that makes the getting up in the morning any easier. My first thought EVERY SINGLE MORNING is, “Ooh, maybe I can get a nap today,” which is followed quickly by, “I can’t wait to go to bed tonight. I’m SO getting to bed early tonight.” Rarely do either of these thoughts – fantasies, really – come to fruition.
Friday night is a night that I’m not required to lay myself down to sleep early (as Saturday is not an early morning). For the most part though, I’m a total Friday night party pooper and am still ready to be in bed by 11. This past Friday, Mike went to a Guys’ Game Night and I had invited my friend Rachel to drive down from Bellingham to hang out. Her email said something like, “That would be great! My car’s been making a funny noise, but it should be fine.” Ahh, Rachel, a fellow writer – and a very talented one, at that – should have recognized that clear foreshadowing! But everything did work out fine, and actually quite splendidly for Matthew! He got to stay up late to see the tow truck pull up with Rachel’s car in front of our house.
Rachel’s misfortune was Matthew’s Christmas morning come late. Her tire totally blew out on 405 just an exit away from ours. She was all geared up to change to her spare on the side of the freeway when she discovered that the bolts were the wrong size for the tool she had. (Or the tool was the wrong size for those bolts. Whatever. There was a size mis-match issue). When Matthew and I watched the tow trucker driver doing his work, Matthew was full of questions; none of which I could answer. Finally, I suggested that he could direct one question to the driver when he was done and ready to leave. When asked what he wanted to ask him, Matthew thought about it and said, “Mm, what did Santa bring the tow truck driver for Christmas?” His one opportunity to speak to a tow truck driver and that’s the question!? In the end, no questions were asked of the driver just of me and Rachel…for hours…for days we’ve been discussing the tow truck that brought Auntie Rachel’s car to our house. Thrilling.
Not at ALL thrilling is the fact that I have Strep Throat. This has yet to be confirmed by medical personnel, but I’m fairly certain that I’ve got it. It feels as though I’m swallowing daggers. This dagger-swallowing has gone on for a couple of weeks now. I’ve ignored it until recently – assuming that it was just another cold that would eventually go away. It’s still here though. It’s annoying that I have to make an appointment, pay a $15 co-pay and have them stick a super long, gaggy, Q-Tip down my throat just so I can get the antibiotics that I know I need. I suppose I should try to get in to the office today. I’m tired of swallowing daggers. It takes away from my enjoyment of my morning dark chocolate and coffee.
There was a time when the start of my day – the coffee and chocolate part – was #1 on the list of favorite parts of the day. It’s still up there but I have a new one. It happens when I’m putting Zach to bed every night. When we’re done reading his story and saying prayers, he quickly turns around and throws his little arms around my neck, he gives a big squeeze and whispers “hug” in my ear. This can go on for minutes – just cuddling with the occasional squeeeeeze and “hug” said ever-so-softly. Then he’ll push his soft cheek up against my face until I give him butterfly kisses. The tickling of my eyelashes never ceases to amuse him and make him giggle. He’s also big on Eskimo kisses, though his nose-bumping kiss isn’t quite as gentle as some of the other moments. I often catch myself during this bedtime routine squeezing and holding on to him for just a little too long. I know that the days of bedtime cuddling will eventually – and most likely soon – be over. But in the meantime, I’ll just hold on to them – and him – as long as I can.