Et tu, Dove?

7:00 AM
The alarm clock goes off, but I’ve been up for hours. Since 2:00, to be precise. When that sixth sense triggered me that something had shifted in the atmosphere, and my eyes opened to a face, just inches away from me in the dark. “Mom!” the hissed whisper of the intruder begins. “Mom! I have to go to the bathroom!” “Go ahead...they are still in the same place. You know where they are.” “Can you come with me?” *Sigh.* “I’ll just sleep on the floor next to you so I won’t wake up my sister going back into our room, ok? Can I have your pillow? And your blanket?”
The whole interaction took 3 minutes, tops.
Exactly long enough to make sure that I was wide awake just in time to fall asleep right before Queen of Sheba woke up at 3:45 to eat. She wasn’t really in a hurry, so we were up until 5:00. Which is when she fell asleep, just as Little Miss Sunshine on the floor woke up. The rest of the day pretty much followed suit.

Fast forward to 4:30. The three belles of the ball are all grumpy, (probably from lack of sleep), PITA (my own little pet name for the dog that lives in my house) has just eaten: one entire loaf of bread (plastic included), one stick of butter (left the wrapper on the counter) and a carton of baking cocoa (left the box and a gi-normous mess in the girls’ room). I’m trying to get homework done, dinner cooked, entertain the Queen, put away the towering mass of laundry and not purposely lock myself out of my own house. I find a stash of candy (confiscated from one of the belles) and unwrap a Dove chocolate square. You know the kind…with the nice little thought for the day printed on the inside of the wrapper. I pop the candy in my mouth…mmm…dark chocolate … and read my wrapper.

“You can do nothing.”

Are you kidding me? I can do NOTHING? What kind of stupid little saying is that?
Do they have any idea what I do in a day? Part time teacher, part time administrator, mother of three, wife…I cook, clean, soccer practice, ballet practice….who writes these sayings? That is craziness! I’m ranting (out loud, actually) all while smoothing out the wrapper methodically on the counter top.

The oldest belle clears her throat. “Uh, mom? Are you ok?”
Ok. It’s just a candy wrapper. Get a grip. I look again. “You can do nothing.” Ohhhh. I get it now. It’s giving me permission to do nothing. As in, take a break. Sit down and relax. Do nothing. Ha!

Perhaps I need an outlet for my insanity. Hence this blog.

Stupid candy wrapper.