The Simasek-Kibler Project

I'm having another one of those mornings again. 

I am up way too early when I really should be sleeping, sunk into that pillow top mattress of ours, snuggled against the warmth of my husband's body.

Listening to the rhythm of his breathing.

But I can't sleep. 

And my tossing and turning isn't exactly condusive to him getting any sleep, so I'm up. On the couch.  Wrapped in a fleece blanket, with a warm cup of coffee and my laptop.

I think I have trip anxiety.  I leave this afternoon for a work trip to Indianapolis. I'm actually looking forward to seeing everyone, but I hate, absolutely hate, that I have to leave my boys. 

When you only have them every other week, you don't want to give any of that up.

But duty calls.  And their dad always makes sure I get my time back.  But still it hurts.

I want to crawl into their beds and wrap my arms around them and bury my face into the back of their necks, soaking them up.  Because too soon they'll be gone.

What is that line, life is like an hourglass glued to the table...?

It's so true.

Time doesn't stop.

Life goes on.

Kids grow up.

We get older.

In the last few weeks, I've had to give out my age on a few forms. 

I couldn't remember. 

I've had this problem for more than a few years. 

Age was never a big deal to me. I never wanted to be older when I was younger, and now that I'm older, I'm good with where I am.  Thinking about the number is just not something I do. 

But I have been thinking about time. Which, I think, is different.  Time seems to be rushing rushing rushing by....and I'll I want to do is yell STOP. 

I'm behind on my list of 40 by 40. 

 And I'm past 40 now.

I'm not sure how far past, but past.

As you start your morning today, and you're rushing about, making coffee, packing lunches, doing the mom speach of whereareyourshoes,whereisyourhomework,didyougetyourprojectoffofthediningroomtable,

WHEREAREYOURSHOESANDSTOPHITTINGYOURBROTHER...

Stop.
Take a breath.
And think
hourglass.