In my waking hours, I fantasize about sleep. Softest, restful flannel sheets and fluffy goose-down sleep. Sleepy dozing, sweet-dreaming slumber. The completely elusive but oft-desired perfectly perfect sleep.
I fantasize about crawling into bed and quieting my mind, turning off my internal mommy-monitor, and I wonder how long I would sleep if no one came to wake me. Do you ever wonder? No baby cries, no toddler standing like a ghost hovering above my pillow, no husband snoring, no phillips head screw driver hiding inside the sheets . . . would I sleep for five hours? Would I sleep until next Tuesday? Next February?
Fifty years from now, age 83 and wrinkled, will I lay awake in my bed, unwilling to sleep, mind full of memories of baby cries and children’s needs? Will I ache to be needed and dream of those love-filled exhausted days? Yes, I believe I will. I see that old woman and she hands me encouragement today like a beautifully wrapped packaged. She lifts her tousled head off the pillow and nods with the wisdom of years lived.
She quietly whispers “embrace it big and love it full.”
I nod back at her; tell her I will see her and that dreamy restful bed one day in the future. But not too soon. The tiring days stretch long but the months, the years, they disappear oh too quickly. And they are precious jewels. Rare and beautiful treasures.
Until then I will love my babies, nurse yet another cup of strong black coffee.
I will embrace it big.
and if just for today, love it full.