The dim light burns my eyes, and I cringe in anticipation of the morning alarm. My head pounds as I sink deeper into the fluffy white comforter. I even went to bed early. How can I still feel so exhausted? Time passes, and I’ve hit the snooze for the third time. I know if I don’t drag my aching body out of bed, my little boy will miss the bus. Again. Time for breakfast. Feed the children. I’m in a haze. Did everyone finish their homework? No. Scramble to pack the lunches and backpacks. My heart bleeds. I smile and kiss little heads and tell them I love them and “Have a wonderful day!” on the way out the door. The bus comes and goes. The three-year-old wants to sit on the porch in the cold. I want to crawl on hands and knees back to my warm bed. “Mommy, will you play with me?” I do. We play on the floor. I adore him. The only ray of sunshine I’ve felt this morning is when his little arms wrapped around my neck. I hold back the tears. I try to check my email, but my laptop has gremlins–my toddler spilled milk on my keyboard last week. My skin crawls and tingles like spider legs creeping. My heart races. I can’t breathe. Sleep. I wish I could sleep.
Photo: FreeDigitalPhotos.net/Michal Marcol