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Category: Writing

I Swear to You I Just Yawned Typing This

Cian woke up yesterday beside me. He was stuffy with a cold and at some point in the middle of the night had crawled in between me and David for some hugs or comfort or the sheer pleasure of lying just so on top of both David and me so that we smothered from his weight, thereby insuring an early advance on the piddly inheritance we’d leave him. He sat straight up–it was 6:15 a.m.–and looked to the sunlight already breaking through the slats of the blinds over the bedroom windows. “Is it moe-ning?” he asked. His voice had a tone of awe to it one would think more aptly used by a person entering a grand cathedral, or seeing the Rockefeller Tree light up at Christmastime. I mumbled that yes indeed, darling, it was in fact the bright, bright, early morning, and I burrowed myself back deeper under the covers. But Cian would not be discouraged. He let out this sort of half-laugh, half-gasp: “I’ve been WAITING for it to be moe-ning!” I love my children. I admire them, and think…

Stubborn

My dog likes to tear apart the throw rug we keep in our front hallway, right in front of the door. I’ve replaced this rug three different times. Each time, she chews it up within a matter of months. She starts at one corner, grabs hold of a thread, and starts pulling. We never see her do this–we’ll just walk down the stairs in the morning to find plastic threads and twisted yarn scattered all over the place, little pieces of fabric thrown around like unwanted confetti. Oftentimes, it happens right after we’ve just vacuumed and mopped and everything looks so calm and perfect, and, well, intact. This dog does not enjoy a clean floor.The rug matches a longer one I have in the hallway leading to the living room. You see one, you see both. So each time Riley does her damage, I dig through the internet until I find it, the exact replica, though it’s getting more and more difficult to do so, but still better than replacing both. I really like the pattern, too. I don’t want to find a new one entirely. And…

Step Four: Get Up Early

Note: This is part of a recurring series of posts I’m calling The Year of Living Intentionally. (Unofficially, I’m calling it That Time Leah Decided to Get Her Shit Together.) You’ll be able to access all the posts here. I hope you’ll join me on the adventure. Today was the day I decided to go back to getting up by five a.m. like a crazy person (or like the Japanese author Haruki Murakami, who wrote the memoir This is What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. See, Murakami says that he rises every morning at four a.m., because the best work is the work done first thing in the day*). *This is why you shouldn’t read, kids. It gives you ideas.  But it’s my year of living intentionally, and this little part right here will be key to getting it right. So last night, I was in bed by nine-thirty in preparation. That part was kind of lovely. During the school year, we wake the kids at six-thirty, so getting up by five (like a crazy person and/or famous author) allows me that time in…