Monday, May 14, 2012

Leading the Revolt

It appears that today is the official day that I abandon all my good sense in honor of the greater good - a.k.a. summer. Don't even bother telling me that it's not summer. I won't listen.

Summer can be a lot of things, it can be sprinklers and floaties and Cheez-Its in a sack lunch. It might be sandal tan lines. If we're lucky, it'll be watermelon granita.

But more than anything, summer is when the flip is switched.

It happened today. I have no explanation. I didn't even see it coming.

All I know is, I never made the bed.

I thought about it. I knew it would only take 30 seconds. I'll regret it in a few more hours.

It's the beginning of the end, it seems. Only really, it's the beginning of the beginning. Because something comes over my summer state of mind. Life feels big enough to put an unmade bed in its place. It seems silly to care so much, all of a sudden.

It's not every day. It's just now and then. And it feels really dang good.


I stacked the dishes like I had plans to wash them, then I walked away without warning.

 I sorted the darks. The end. I had other plans.

Wanna know what my other plans were?

They were a nap, people. A 45 minute nap in my unmade bed in the middle of the afternoon. It was cool enough that I needed the sheet and warm enough that I didn't need more. A blissful, decadent, uncharacteristic, just-because-I-could-and-the-two-littles-followed-suit nap.

The room was sunny, the street was buzzing. I drifted in and out while the rest of the house was quiet as a thought and the world kept turning past the windows.

So from now on, there will be days when the house is a mess because we're only in it long enough to  cause a scene. We can't be troubled to stick around and take care of it. We're too busy pinkening our noses.

I promise you, I'll start to forget to get groceries. And when I remember? Mostly fruit.

We've done the drill all winter long. Now we're all geared up for some good, clean, rebellion.
 
 Speaking of rebels:

Dear Siley,

Why do you look like such a three year old? When did this happen? How did you become big enough to put your own toothpaste on the brush? I can't wait to party with you this Summer, Bubsie. I think we'll have even more fun than last year.

Love,
Mommy