We currently have a DIY project, and I have spent the past several days working on that for three hours in the morning and another three after the kids go to bed at night, on top of the day's regularly scheduled programming. Needless to say, it's exhausting. Hopefully we are nearing the completion because a repeat of this evening could prove disastrous.
I should include that I spent the entire day in my painting clothes. I did not bother to change to go to the dentist or to pick up the children from school because I didn't want to waste precious painting time swapping outfits or risk a paint smudge following me into civi clothes. That's not relevant to my tale; it's just amusing because the poor kids were mortified that I was #1 wearing overalls. and #2 said overalls were covered in paint splotches. There's no telling what the dentist thought.
Anyway, this evening I was listening to my first grader read her library book. I laid my head back, propped up my feet, and that was the last thing I remember. What kind of mother falls asleep while her child is counting on her full attention? I should feel totally horrible, but before I could even consider my actions, I awoke thinking I was being scalped. Close. Upon finishing her book and discovering I was no longer conscious, my daughter decided I looked like a good candidate for her beauty salon. My hair was being brushed, hair sprayed, and braided violently by little hands. Once the tangles (or roots) were all sufficiently pulled out, I drifted in and out of light sleep amid her hair stylist chatter. "How many children do you have? Are they a handful. I have four, can you believe it?!" I think I answered appropriately, but it's highly possible she never even paused to wait for a response. Once I was styled, she said, "Girl, you look like you could use a massage." Seconds later I bolted off the sofa because ice cold lotion was being pumped directly down the back of my shirt! "Does that feel good?" she asked. I can't swear to it, but I feel pretty certain I was being punished for falling asleep.
So as you can see, I must get back to painting so I can get a full night's rest and give my children my undivided, alert attention lest they decide on harsher methods of waking me tomorrow.
I should include that I spent the entire day in my painting clothes. I did not bother to change to go to the dentist or to pick up the children from school because I didn't want to waste precious painting time swapping outfits or risk a paint smudge following me into civi clothes. That's not relevant to my tale; it's just amusing because the poor kids were mortified that I was #1 wearing overalls. and #2 said overalls were covered in paint splotches. There's no telling what the dentist thought.
Anyway, this evening I was listening to my first grader read her library book. I laid my head back, propped up my feet, and that was the last thing I remember. What kind of mother falls asleep while her child is counting on her full attention? I should feel totally horrible, but before I could even consider my actions, I awoke thinking I was being scalped. Close. Upon finishing her book and discovering I was no longer conscious, my daughter decided I looked like a good candidate for her beauty salon. My hair was being brushed, hair sprayed, and braided violently by little hands. Once the tangles (or roots) were all sufficiently pulled out, I drifted in and out of light sleep amid her hair stylist chatter. "How many children do you have? Are they a handful. I have four, can you believe it?!" I think I answered appropriately, but it's highly possible she never even paused to wait for a response. Once I was styled, she said, "Girl, you look like you could use a massage." Seconds later I bolted off the sofa because ice cold lotion was being pumped directly down the back of my shirt! "Does that feel good?" she asked. I can't swear to it, but I feel pretty certain I was being punished for falling asleep.
So as you can see, I must get back to painting so I can get a full night's rest and give my children my undivided, alert attention lest they decide on harsher methods of waking me tomorrow.
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