Life in progress

Tag Archives: bed


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Don’t you hate it when that happens?

I’d decided that I would stop refreshing my damned stats page, I’d stopped looking for new posts to read in my reader and I’d even gone as far as turning off the laptop.  And the other laptop. And the PC.  So I’m standing in the kitchen, making my coffee for the morning and it hits me. The perfect subject for a post. Before I know it I’ve lost count of how many scoops I’ve put in the coffeemaker (I only have to count to seven, but there you go) and I’m trying to decide whether to a) get out a pen and paper and jot down the idea or b) turn a computer back on and risk staying up yet another hour to write – and refresh – and read.

So I’m writing this now (it’s 6:46pm) but all this happened to me last night. I failed to do neither a) nor b) and now I can’t remember what my brilliant idea was. But I still got a post out of the experience, so it wasn’t a total waste. 😛


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Milestones

Life’s milestones come in so many shapes and sizes. While many are like gigantic boulders others can seem like pebbles at first. But even a pebble can create a ripple.

Today my firstborn, my baby, who has somehow so quickly reached a height of almost six feet and eighteen years of age, moved out. A huge milestone for him and what I thought would be a smaller one for me.

But now I find myself thinking about how empty my house feels, even though my other two children are asleep in their beds. There’s no one to call down the laundry chute to say good-night to before I go to bed. I’ll turn off all the lights without worrying if he’ll trip over anything should he get up in the dark. The ripples have spread, just as my son has spread his wings and proverbially flown the coop. Just like that.


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Sad but True

Ever have one of those days when you haven’t had any sleep the night before, and you’re just about to finally fall into bed at 9:30pm and you get a phone call from a customer you deliver the newspaper to (for a stunning compensation of 11 cents per day) to let you know that your eldest son didn’t deliver their paper today (and neither did you because you spent the day in the hospital with your youngest son) and all you want to do is cry?

I wish I could say me neither.


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Forty-something and still growing up

What is it about my life that at what should be my bed time I start acting like a teenager? I know damned well that I’m tired, and yet I refuse to do the sensible thing and go to bed.

I think that maybe it’s the quiet which lures me into wakefulness. When it’s quiet I can concentrate on writing. At night I don’t have to worry about the phone ringing to tell me someone has been misbehaving at school and can I please come and pick him up.  During the day I’m so worried that my creativity will be interrupted that I would rather procrastinate by playing Bejewelled than run the risk of starting and having to stop. Then there’s the fact that at night I can act like an adult: having a child who refuses to play silently by himself (and by that I mean if I don’t play with him he screams at me until I do – long story) is hardly conducive to sitting down to a peaceful cup of java and a pleasant read.  Oh, and wine of course. THAT I can enjoy a glass of after the kiddies are safely tucked away in bed.

After all, isn’t being a teenager all about wanting to grow up? Yeah, I’ll bitch about how tired I am in the morning…

Maybe I’m not really grown up after all.