Rest doesn't always lead to relaxation
The weekend came and went with a huff of wind and steady rain.
Sunday afternoon Silas was feeling, what I now believe, was the final effects of a lingering cold ... he was warm to the touch, feverish and tired.
We spent the afternoon on the couch, as we've spend many days of late. He slept while I reheated my coffee more times than I care to admit and watched Sandra Bullock be impossibly cute from 1990 until whenever she made "Miss Congeniality." (DAMN YOU, HBO!)
Come Monday he was still warm and his sister overslept, which is a sign - at least in my experience of childhood - that rest is probably the best plan.
So we stayed home, watched TV, decorated Easter Eggs and generally took time to not do much at all.
I'm not sure such days are good for the mental health, though.
It seems I do less and less and the kids get older.
I don't comb my hair. I steer clear of the mirror and the bathroom scale. I don't want to see how "I've let myself go."
My knee hurts when it rains. When did that start?
I want a warm day so I can go out and be in the world again.
Yet, I know once the warm days lead to hot ones I'll be hiding back inside. Not wanting to move. Not wanting to think about all that has to get done; all that I should want to do.
I'm ready, and waiting, for spring. I need to thaw into forward momentum.