Matt took a day off of work today. It’s foul outside as only the Pacific Northwest can be. Dense fog, ice crystals, dripping noses. It’s beautiful if you have the resiliency for visibility a hair shy of deep depression. He slept in, snoring softly while I turned on lights and dragged kids into the routine of our “morning” defined only by the clock and not by the pitch black windows. I wanted to crawl under the blankets beside him and pretend I am not responsible for five human beings who are less than stellar decision makers when left to their own devices. It’s not worth the mess in the kitchen when I’m not present.
Half of me understands. He gets up every single morning. Rain or shine. Happy or sad. Sickness and health. Puts on his work Polo and goes to his job. On the weekends, he rises at 5:00 a.m. to take the boys to hockey practice. I run the morning routine every morning, true, and I keep things clean, run the house, run the errands, run the small business that owns LTYM Spokane and our writing classes. Run, run, run. Then again, I am the spoiliest of the spoiled. I often have my own time to go to the gym and have coffee with friends. Half of me understands.
But there’s this other unreasonable half stuffed in a back corner of my brain that’s all GET UP AND CHANGE THE BABY’S DIAPER, MOTHERFUCKER.
Shhhhhhhhhh, demon half of me, Matt’s sleeping ;-)