The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my love of getting into bed at the end of the day . . . well, today, at 7:37pm, I'm calling it quits and climbing in. Sigh.  It's been a long week. What I haven't mentioned before was that both John and I got a version of Piper's illness.  I got the extreme fatigue (like literally my body hurt to move--I swear, my joints creaked like an old ladies when I walked around) and bad headaches and total disinterest in all food.  John was the extreme fatigue with crazy bad headache and if he moved, everything would move out of him.  So he stayed still and in bed for about 24 hours (only the forth time in our marriage).   We are both better, thank heavens, but I just don't want to think or do anything anymore today.  And so by getting into my PJs and washing my face and brushing my teeth and climbing into bed, I am declaring to the world (and John and children) that I am done for the day. And oh, oh oh oh, it...

Here's my view this morning . . . after I cleaned out the garage, mowed the lawn, chatted with my sister and did five loads of laundry.  I lay on the hammock and stared up at these leaves full of maple pods with the sun streaming through the green leaves, making me think of summers as a child.  I remember reaching up and pulling down the seed pods and carefully braking open the thick, sticky pod top and sticking them on my nose, my ears, and on my fingers.   I remember making dandelion chains for my hair and wrists and finding tiny buttercups and holding them under our chins to see if we loved butter.  I remember playing ring around the rosy over and over again and running as fast as I could everywhere I went just because I could.   I lay there, on the hammock, and let memories of my childhood wash over me and soak into my bones.  Everything relaxed; my body, my mind, my spirit.  How have I lost that ability to just be so pre...