I am pleased to report that, five days into January, I have read two books. Amazing! I am an avid reader, but I try to forget that about myself most of the time. Reading is an addictive hobby. I am sucked into whole other worlds, and it becomes hard to manage my own reality.
As is usual, the baby has not been sleeping well, and I was up too many times last night. During my brief stretches of sleep, I dreamed of the circus world in the book I just finished. And so, when Max came to me around 2-something with some need or another, I dreamed he came to me with a vivid mustard scarf, apparently a prop in his circus act. Torn between all the conflicting images flashing about my mind and the urge to keep Max quiet as to not wake the sleeping baby, I simply could not focus on the poor kid and what he was saying. Shrek finally woke up to Max's frustration and, thank God, helped him out, which allowed me that rare opportunity to roll over and find sleep again.
So I have spent several nights this week snug on the couch, reading, with a string of hot drinks at the ready. Coffee, hot tea, hot cocoa... I love you all.
I am so thankful to have this warm house, these reading eyes, the furnace billowing in the belly of this drafty, old house. I'm turning ideas in my head, as I quietly drink up cozy winter activities.
I'm going to try to refrain from starting another book for a couple of days. Sometimes our realities need our full attention, and I'm going to continue to hash out the ways in which I can and will better my own.
I am, like most every year at this time, amazed at the free time I'm starting to see in the sunlight-filtered cracks of my life. What? The baby doesn't need to nurse every two hours? I don't need to squeeze in Christmas prep? I'm not completely slammed at work? Oh.
And so, January, I see you. Believe me, change is on my mind, but I am sensible and calm in its execution. Reminded by the photo above, would it be too much to ask to get a little snow?