Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My biggest fantasy, call me simple, is sleeping in.  Sleeping a deep, heavy, dark, cool, long slumber.  Nothing interrupting.  Oh, you have no idea how often my mind wanders to this… this longing…this desire.  Sometimes it’s the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes.  I’ll even make myself little promises throughout the day that I’ll find a way tomorrow to taste this delight.  Yet, tomorrow comes, again and again and I am left wanton.  

Yesterday, Mother’s Day, was no exception.  I was sure that this was the real-deal.  It was, afterall, MY DAY.  The day that all bow down and worship my holy feminine glory for bringing forth life to this world.  I think I woke in the middle of the night with a tinge of excitement over the succinct possibility that my craving was about to come to fruition.  And then, in what seemed like seconds, the momentum was shot in the foot, kaput.  Lights clicked on, covers ripped off, curtains thrown open and “WAKE UP NOW MOMMY!!!  GET OUT OF BEDDDDDD!!!!”  Huh?  Whatttt?!!!  “GET OUT OF BEDDDD!!!!  IT’S MOTHER’S DAY AND THERE’S A SURPRISE OF CHOCOLATE AND FLOWERS ON THE TABLE FOR YOUUUUU!!!!!!!”

And the moment was gone – as illusory as ever.  In its place was real life.  Groggy and feeling the let-down dissipate, I wandered ½ dressed to the kitchen, with Daisy’s hand in mine.  Sure enough, chocolate, lilacs, a handmade card and a snotty nose girl needed me.  We sat and admired her beautiful card with it’s purple, black and grey scribbles.  I could make out the letters MOM spread out across the page in different directions.  She was so proud.  “Open the chocolate, Mommy, so I can have some.”  I had to laugh.  So, we ate part of my surprise and then she was off to watch her favorite cartoon. 

Before I finished the breakfast Dan had made for me, my throat started to feel scratchy and my eyes heavy.  Nose started to run.  Just great -  Happy Mother’s Day.   We were suppose to spend the day with my Mom and Don and Diana, taking in their new farm digs, eating good food and walking by the river.  I could see this was not going to happen.  As the hollandaise sauce was growing cold, Daisy started to screech some demanding thing over the top of the TV.  Dan and I looked at each other with this symbiotic “capiche.”  

The day sort of dragged on, nothing really dramatic, but more like a burr caught on the outside of your sock when you’re hiking.  Dolly decided she wanted us to chase her for ½ hour before we could milk her, and then she took a crap right next to the milking bucket that I pleasantly smelled for the next 15 minutes.  Daisy did her psycho-sick-kid routine where she gets hyper, acts like cartoon character the Tasmanian Devil and simply destroys all in her wake, and then cries profusely.  Dan, in his best Norwegian self, tries to find a project to do to distract the day away.  I follow suite, as it seems like a good idea, and take to mowing the back field.  And before you know it, somehow, it’s 8pm and no one has eaten dinner.

So we scrambled, ate dinner, drugged Daisy with children’s acetaminophen, tucked her in bed.  Then we cracked a bottle of wine to see if we could suck one last vestige of pleasure out of the day.  And there it was… the fantasy.  Pining, begging.  “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you...”  I crawl under the covers, sure that this cold I have will guarantee me at least a sampling of my hunger.

“MOMMY, WAKE UP!!!  I NEED A TISSUE!!!” 

And, as I wipe her gooey nose, I find myself offering the habitual oath that I’ll take a nap later,  but I know I’m lying.  I know that this long, cool, heavy, dark sleep will come someday, but not when I’m longing.  No, Morpheus will wrap his blanket of comfort around me and I will drift off to the big sleep and not have a chance to share how peaceful it was.