It's late and it's hot. I'm sitting in a tank top and underwear listening to water trickle down off the balcony above us. The upstairs neighbors must of just watered. It's 10:26. Isaac finally got the baby to sleep and I read two more chapters of the first Harry Potter book to Graham tonight. I love these normal family nights. Where nothing is planned, and we have no where to be and no one to see. These nights feel few and far between. These normal nights that I may one day look back on and romanticize. These normal nights where I sit nearly naked and still dripping in sweat, trying not to think about how much my neck hurts (I pulled something), and how much my toe hurts (I cut it.) These nights where you are so exhausted but start to think about all you need to do, the bills that have piled up for months, the lost insurance cards, finding a doctor for the baby, the baby's upcoming birthday and invitations that still sit on my table, writing a will (because that's what you need to do when you have kids even if you have nothing), what about that colonoscopy you need to schedule, how do you remove sticky stars from a ceiling covered in them, what will nap time look like tomorrow, where is the babies bathing suit, is my business going to be at all successful once I officially open?
I sit here and my mind swirls because aside from the sounds from the street and the cars breezing by on the freeway out our window, the house is quiet. Should I eat some ice cream and a cookie and force myself to sit in the dark "quiet" or should I make my last grand effort of the day to accomplish something?
I'm not sure what the right answer is but I think I will head to the freezer.
I love these nights.