This is actually not the kid with the concussion. But the picture works, yeah?
Last night I crept into bed at midnight after vegging in front of my computer for a few hours because I have this neurosis that says that when I've spent the day frantically trying to Get Things Done around a kid with a concussion–who felt oddly energized and talkative by said concussion–I need a big fat break. Especially once Mr. Concussed Flappy-Lips has finally dropped off to sleep.
My goal, at the end of the day, is not to spend it unblinkingly in front of the online Anthro store adding things to my cart that I'm going to remove two days later when I finally admit to myself that not only can I not afford them, but it is only in my nubile memory that I will look good in them. Nope. That's not it.
It's also not my goal to click to the Williams-Sonoma online store and drool over the brilliant lime-green-and-ochre-hand-painted-by-a-chicken-farmer's-daughter-in-Armenia teflon-ed cookware that I can only afford to buy the handle of.
My goal is to sit next to my husband reading while he plays solitaire on the iPad that is supposedly mine, until we just sort of melt into this comfortable silence of finger-tapping on the screens that now hold our entertainment. Basking in our mutually loving ignoring of each other.
And then, if my self-discipline-stars are aligned, I will roll over and snuggle into the little dent in my hub's shoulder that was built for my head, and we'll sigh all romantically and stuff as we fall asleep. Until all the skin on the right side of my face goes numb because my old-age circulation has gotten weird. And then I'll flip over so my skin will wake up and my ear doesn't fall off. Plus I drank a teaspoon of water before bed and probably have to go to the bathroom.
That's my goal.
But instead, last night I stayed up. And I do that quite often. For no other reason than that I think I am giving myself a much deserved break. Except that it ends up being a break that makes me irritated with myself for doing it because now I will have a much harder time getting up in the morning, and then I'll be behind all day. AND I missed out on my face falling asleep on my hunka-hunka-burnin'-love's shoulder, which is sort of critical to our relationship. Without it, we just don't feel that cozily-ignoring-each-other-thing that one achieves after 25 years of marriage.
I need that cozily-ignoring-each-other-thing.
So the break at the end of my day is going to have to come somewhere else. Like before my kid goes to school and slams his head into a metal bar, giving himself a concussion.
Right. I've got it. Don't call me between 9:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. Monday through Friday. I'll be on my break.
Sincerely and cozily ignoring you,
Janiel
Ouch.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled cozy ignoring….
🙂 I assume you’re referring to the bar-to-the-head when you say “ouch.” He followed that up by slamming his head into the tv screen in the van, and into the freezer door. Successively. On the same day. Gave himself a progressive concussion. Who knew?