Doodle Revolution #sol16

I’m in a little bit of a doodle frenzy lately.

The Doodle Revolution arrived on my doorstep a few weeks ago and I’m kinda hooked on doodling my to-do lists, school notes, and reflections on my day.  It seems the visuals stick in my head a little more than just written text.

So, this morning, I doodled a flow chart doodle of how I would LIKE my day to go – of course this is all speculation and open to diversions.  Like lesson plans, we must leave room for intuitive moments of flow that nudge us down a different path.  As enjoyable as side trips are, eventually, we need to get back on course in order to accomplish what we intend to accomplish.

After reflecting on my intended plans for the day, I probably would have had time to complete all of my tasks, but, the house was quiet, so my bed called me over for a nap (I forgot to draw that in – it’s really not a productive event though).  I also got lost commenting on Slice of Life stories for a tad bit of time (so many inspirational pieces out there).  Oh, and I researched Donald  Trump for a bit to affirm my belief of why he should not be president. (This was easy work.)  I also spent some time digging around for snacks and trying to decide if I should bake something but I didn’t because I figured I’d eat it all because no one else is home.  So, I ate chocolate chips.

Sigh. Smile.

Life is good.

 

 

 

 

 

Hair Magic ~A Very Small Slice~ #sol16

“Mrs. Daniels! Something STRANGE is going on here!” a third grade boy muttered into my ear right after my writing workshop lesson.

“What, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Well,” he continued, “This morning, your hair was this caramel-chocolate color and now. . . well, it’s turning grey!”

My cheater reading glasses rested on top of my head, pulling back my bangs and hair along my hairline.  Note to self:  buy a box of hair color on the way home.  I laughed and I don’t think he knew why.  This boy had a serious question and wanted an answer for how hair can turn grey so fast.

“Are you magic?” he smiled.

I wish.

I tire of coloring my hair.  The box colors seem to last about two weeks on my grey patches now.  I can’t be running to a salon every month.  Geez.

“When can I start letting my hair go grey?”  I ask my friend.

“Oh, never!”  she warns.

“Seriously? I can’t do this until I’m 70.  My own mother JUST now stopped coloring her hair and it’s a beautiful grey.  I can’t go another 20 years.”

“Oh, but, we have to.”

Fine.

Another box of Clairol Nice and Easy ~Dark Auburn is purchased.

My poor little third grader is going to be so confused.

 

 

The Snooze Button ~ #sol16

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5:30am

The first reminder that the day is new comes from the tune of an alarm alongside my bed.

“Ugh,” I muffle, as I burrow deeper into my bedding.  My husband still sound asleep.

Snooze #1.

A snooze is 9 minutes.  Precisely.  A few snoozes are in store for this morning as the night before brought parent/teacher conferences until 8:00 pm.  It seemed I just left school and here my alarm was blaring that I needed to go back.

“No worries,” I calm myself, as I begin planning my outfit in my mind.  A black pair of pants hang in my closet and a sweater on my shelf, both, I know are clean.  They might not even require ironing.  Ten minutes is saved right there.  Dreamland calls me back to paradise.

5:39 am

Already.  I thought I’d just hit that snooze.  Geez.  I’m not getting up yet. There’s plenty of time.  I don’t need to be at school at 7:00 am today.  I’m giving myself a break.  I’m pretty convincing to myself.

Snooze #2.

Rolling over, my husband stirs, unshaken by the alarms and my snoozes.  I wrap my arm around him and dig underneath his fleece army blanket that he prefers to sleep beneath.  My own coverings of quilts I push off.  Each of us have contrasting preferences for nighttime blankets.  I need heaviness and he, light.

“You are wrapped up in there like Fort Knox,” he teases at night when I get ready for bed.

School dreams take me away this time.  My third graders are at gym and I can’t find the way there.

5:48am

Again.  Is there any way I can stretch the snoozes to be longer?

“Why don’t you just set your alarm for later?” my husband frequently asks, trying to remedy my problem.

“Because.  I like to have some warnings,” I profess.  “Snoozes give me a chance to feel like I get extra sleep.”

The snooze button is tapped again.  I snuggle back up to my husband, who is cool to the touch.

“Aren’t you cold?  You need more covers,” I mother him.

He ignores me and continues to slumber.  His scent of clorine from swimming takes me back to high school, he on the swim team and I, his girl friend.

Snooze #3.

6:24am

The alarm frustrated by now.  The spring sky growing lighter.

“I have to get up,” I whisper to my husband.

“What? Just five more minutes,” as he rolls over to wrap his arm around me.

Easily swayed,  “I guess I don’t need to wash my hair today.  I washed it yesterday,” I remind myself .  A benefit of long hair.

Snooze #9.  Seriously.

6:33am

Oh for Pete’s Sake.

“I have to go,” I urge my husband.

“Just one more snooze,” he begs.

I smile.

He really has no idea what time it is and how many snoozes have gone by,  not needing to be at work until 8:00.

Gone are the years of babies and night time feedings, waking children for daycare or dressing and feeding kids for school.  No longer are teenagers blaring music at night or sneaking in the door in the early morning hours.  Empty nesters, we play this game now.  Who can stay in bed the longest and still get to work?  (Still following our rule that if you are not there early, you’re late.)

This place.

I am grateful we made it to this place in our marriage.  The “children years” test every aspect of a marriage and when the offspring take wing,  a couple is weary and sometimes decide to trail off on their separate paths.  We persevered.

This place.

The morning snuggles with legs intertwined and rhythmic breathing.  I’m sure this is what heaven is like.  I whisper to God, thanking Him for mornings. . . and my husband. . . and his love.

And snooze buttons.