Thursday, October 27, 2011

Moms and Cinnamon Life

I have been laying in the Bluefield dark trying to go to sleep for the last two hours. I have a problem falling instantly asleep.  I always have. G does not. I have to talk really fast if I have something to say while we are going to sleep because he will go from a fully functioning, interacting human to the middle of deep REM cycle in a matter of 27 seconds. I was always excited to get married because I thought it would be like a perma-roomate who you could talk with for hours and hours before falling asleep.  Then I got married and realized that vision was about as realistic as a unicorn or Puff Daddy's resurrection because it contains 2 inherent flaws. One is that Garrett is a boy.  That is not the flaw. That is the blessing.  What I did not realize is that boys don't talk like girls.  They do not endlessly analyze for hours.  They do not waste their mortal probation in idle chatter.  The second is that even if G did want to giggle and chat the night away, he falls asleep so fast that I only have the opportunity to utter about 3 sentences before he starts his Lamaze like breathing and is gone to the world of slumber, never to return until the alarm goes off.

Anyways. Back to why I am awake. I have been thinking for the last hour how much I wanted a bowl of cinnamon life.  I think that started keeping me awake, more than the deficiency of pillow talk or not being able to sleep in the first place.  Then I realized, I am an adult. If I want to eat cinnamon life. I can. I can and I will and I just did.

This is not the first time this has happened.  I love cinnamon life, at night in a certain bowl that is more like a mug.  I will call it a mowl. It has unconsciously merged almost into a night time ritual or habit.  I think that is because whenever we would go to my grandmas as a child (which was better than Disneyland) she would always let us have a bowl of cold cereal before bed.  I loved it. And now that I'm completely responsible for myself, I can bring back all my childhood fantasies and joyful memories I loved.  Certain things I still do even though I know they are not responsible. For example, when I was little no one would ever let you roll down your windows and have the AC on.  It's wasteful.  I agree. However, I do it sometimes when I am alone because I can and no longer have that childhood dream repressed.  I also chew multiple pieces of gum at the same time and spit it out the instant it loses flavor (usually around 8 minutes).  I also drink straight from the milk jug when no one is home.

I still think I need a mom to guide me because some things that one would hope maturity would naturally eliminate is still not working.  I need her to check my cleaning of the bathroom because I still hate cleaning bathrooms.  When you're an adult, no one tells you to go to bed when it's late. You're just dead dog tired the next day.  No one tells you to do your chores.  You just have a messy house if you don't.  Sometimes I love being an adult when I can eat Life cereal at midnight because I can but sometimes I just still wish I had to a mom to make me a chore chart, do my laundry, make some dinner and tell me to go to sleep.  Even when you're a mom, you still want your mom. I hope Liv always wants her mom too.

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