Shhhh….don’t tell Jay. I’m hiding in the bedroom.
It’s 6:50 a.m. A time of day that is almost never reserved for solitude in our house. This hour is usually for catching Cheerios being pelted across the room, negotiating life-threatening fashion decisions, or packing someone’s lunch while facing a firing-squad of inconceivable questions. Again.
But today is different. For some miraculous reason, I’m in here, and they’re out there, and they don’t know that I’m awake. And I’m going to soak it up for just a tad bit longer.
I’m going to check my e-mail for the 21st time in twenty minutes, hoping to find a reply to an e-mail I sent at 1:00 a.m. I finished a video project and forwarded it to a few of my biggest cheerleaders. I am that kid standing at the teacher’s desk just dying for her to say, “I love it. You’re brilliant.”
I’m going to also refresh the big FB for the 31st time in now thirty minutes. What exactly am I looking for? Not sure, but I don’t find it.
So instead I flip through old blog posts of my own, amazed at just how much of this very recent history I have forgotten until I reread it.
I realize it’s been two weeks since I blasted SuperMommy, and I wonder if I have anything worth remembering and enough time to say it before my cover is blown.
There’s the funny way Chica’s been mixing up m and n in the word dominoes. Donimoes. I hope it’s a long time before she fixes that one.
And the frozen moment in time from one morning that I’ve somehow managed to hold all week. Jay had already left, Chica was with Nana, and it was just Bubba and me. I hoisted him from the highchair, and he smushed his pudgy, sticky face into mine. And kept it there. And I breathed deeply and told myself not to forget, and somehow it worked.
Ok. The sounds from the den are mounting. Time to go rescue Daddy.
And make more memories.