The kids know not to believe me when I assure them I'll stay awake for a movie at the end of a long day. The end of the day starts at 6:30 p.m.
I had good intentions, really, I did, to watch The Grinch with them tonight. I vaguely remember them waking me up at times. "Mom... Mom... Mom... Mom!" I tried hard to keep my eyes open.
Sorry, kids, it's just not happening sometimes. I'm 11 years tired. And that holds no candle to my mom who raised kids for twice as long as most people do because of the spread in ages of my siblings.
I think I saw a bleary version of the Grinch restoring Christmas.
Maybe I need bullet-point movies. I tend to read articles and posts in bullet points instead of combing through every word.
Movies could be like that. Just the five-minute version that outlines the story, but skips blood, guts, gore, scares, or spooks. I don't like blood, guts, gore, scares, or spooks, but I do want to see every kiss and meaningful look.
And tell me who's still alive at the end. Details there aren't necessary as long as the bad guy gets what is coming to him.
Five minutes is all a mom has for awake time by 6:30 if she sits down in the evening. Just get used to the slack-jawed version of Mom with her head back, passed out in whatever position she landed, and still answering questions and directing traffic from a foggy, groggy state.
I don't have the answer as to why Mom has to answer all the questions, no matter the sleep state.
You'll never hear: "Dad, will you get me a drink?" or "Dad, read the story." or "Dad, I've had a nightmare."
Oh, well, I know this won't last forever, so for now, I'll just enjoy being here for them.
As lofty as that sounds, I still have to work on having a good attitude when I keep hearing "Mom... Mom... Mom..." while I'm in the grog state. It doesn't come naturally.