I woke up on Wednesday with a cannonball over my left eye. At least that's what it felt like. My eyes itched, burned, and generally complained about the whole situation by watering. The pile of wadded-up tissues beside my bed told the rest of my family how well I DIDN'T sleep. Allergies. Maybe I need to switch medication.
I went through the next couple of hours at a crawl. My littlest ones, of course, didn't understand and still expected Mom to be...well....Mom. Mom, who makes breakfast and snacks. Mom, who reads stories. Mom, who does art projects with them every Wednesday morning.
Part of me longed to ignore our "no TV during the week" rule, find something on Netflix for the girls, and wallow on the couch with one eye open. The other part of me really wanted to see my girls have a special morning. After all, it was Wednesday morning and Wednesday mornings are for art with my little girls.
Not coincidentally, they are also for baths.
That afternoon I listened to Lyla sing herself to sleep in her crib, giving me permission to close my own watery eyes for just a bit. I fell asleep gratefully, not only for the much-needed nap, but that I had pushed through just enough to have a special morning with my little girls.