The sunlight broke through the windows far earlier than I anticipated this morning. I turned lazily under the heavy comforter, feeling the cool winter air of the room chilling my nose, and snuggled down deeper into the cozy embrace of down and cotton batting. Pulling the covers higher, I burrowed back into my world of pillows, stretching catlike then pulling my knees to my chest and drifting back to a peaceful Saturday morning state of dozing.
I've always slept like a baby, which is not to say well, but surrounded. Sharing my bed with another has always been my preference, which seems somewhat out of place for someone who has spent more than half of the last 12 years without the nightly warmth and security of a strong man in her bed. Rather, I have made a substitution with pillows; Two king pillows, two queen pillows, and one body pillow. Decorative pillows are beautiful for a room that others will see. My room is not that place. Mine is a place where I slip into a fortress of blankets and pillows and pack them around me. There's no warm breath on my neck or leg tossed over my hip, but it's warm and secure all the same.
Being forced to leave the bed is my waking nightmare. Today was no different. My son had collected his first ever paycheck, and being the sort of mother that demands her children learn independence, I talked him in to opening a debit account. If I'd had given any thought to the bank hours, I might have let him cash it at the grocery store and just blow it on bubblegum and soda pop. Instead, I mentally slapped myself for being so lazy and dipped a toe into the cold air outside the bed perimeter. Like jumping into the pool, I flung back the covers, and experienced that full body shock as I transitioned from toasty warm to shivering uncontrollably.
If life were fair, there would be a sleepy man in that bed grabbing me by the hand and pulling me back in to sleep for another 30 minutes. But life being what it is, I had no excuse so I decided I might as well doll myself up instead. Obviously the people at the bank weren't going to care one way or another if my skin looks flawless or if my hair is falling in rings or frizzy, but there would be a trip to Walmart after, and I do so like to set myself apart from... well, the rest of Walmart.
With the new account open (he's refused to allow me to post the picture of him holding up his first paycheck and bank account so if you'd like to see it feel free to ask me to text it to you), we made our way to the store to pick up an ungodly sum of groceries, new towels to match the new paint color in the bathroom, and a few necessities to keep everyone looking and smelling civilized. I dialed my daughter's number to make certain that she would be available to help with groceries and we made our way home.
When we arrived, the house was abuzz with activity. Our tenant is moving out this weekend, and while I'm happy that he and his girlfriend will be starting their new life together and we'll be recovering some space in the house, it also means my daughter is moving to the rental part of the house! This transition means more independence for her, a private entrance, her own living space, kitchenette, and bath. The tenant is even leaving her a microwave and pizza over. She's over the moon.
I have a daughter almost on her own, a son with 1 paycheck in the bank and 1 foot on the gas pedal of my car (Christ on a bike... pray for me), and I can once again taste the future. Everyone is growing up so much this weekend, except me. I think I might climb back into my blanket world and sleep off the sugar coma of sweet freedom. Yes, I think I will.
|It's nap time, kids! Don't wake Mommy!|