Maya has been falling asleep SUPER late the past week or two. Like, 12-1am late. And it's totally thrown me off. Then, tonight, at the perfect bed time for her, she falls asleep in the car on the way home, and I'm all YEAH!!! And I successfully transfer her from the car to the bed, which is awesome, but then I try to get up
ohsocarefully and it's like we're suddenly tangled. Her arm is in my shirt and my shirt is under her body and her head is somehow supported by the arm I just moved to help myself get up. I kinda just freeze so I can figure out a game plan, and my stomach starts growling so loudly that I'm
sure it'll wake up the whole street before it stops. I debate even getting up at all. I kinda wanna sleep but I have stuff to do. Cut to 12:45am and I find myself slow-cooking in the bathtub, drinking cold sweet strawberry hibiscus tea, practically falling asleep.
I start to wonder what's wrong with me, but then I realize it's just been one of those weeks - the kind that make you take wish-it-were-hotter bubbleless baths after midnight. The kind where you wear only mascara to church even though you know your directory picture will be taken. The dirty hair don't care kind. The kind that make you just take your wins where you can get 'em and forget the rest. (...the metaphorical rest and the literal.)
Because sometimes, you gotta get out the tools, build a stand, and sell whatever lemons life is giving you.
Or sleep.
Sleep, and sell lemons tomorrow.
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