Reverie

Today was a great day for drooling at walls.

It’s been a day of hazy clouds and harsh cold.

Today our bed head spiked and jutted to the heavens.

Our heads swung down to rest on palms and coffee tables and carpet.

Today we wore two pair of socks and PJs that mysteriously smelled of  poop.

Today we made couch angels but accidentally fell asleep so they are missing swooshy arms.

Today even the mild counting of a cartoon friend seemed all too fast, too loud.

Today is only quiet.

But today was not wasted.

Today you talked about my “pretty” face while I closed eyes and rocked you.

Today we ate very bad things that tasted so good.

Today we stared dumbly out windows, getting the lucky chance to see the neighbors’ tacky carnival land of Christmas decor deflated.

Today it was clear, through murky snot-stained shirts and dirty dishes, that the best thing to do was sit still.

We were super at still.

Never lazy, today we’ve stayed so busy doing much of nothing.

Tonight let’s wear three pair of socks.

We’ll pour our tired bones into beds.

Let waves of ugly snoring lull and swoon and hush.

Tonight we’ll reject small doses and use the whole tub of magical Vapor Rub.

Let that little nose breathe.

Tonight we’ll sleep like we mean it, the disorienting slumber that leaves you unsure of the date and place when you awake.

Tonight we will rest.

Because tomorrow- oh,  tomorrow!- I just know it will be the high-fiving strangers kind of day.

Tomorrow we’ll wear clean and sassy things: more stripes, less snot.

Tomorrow skies and sinuses will clear.

Tomorrow will be so tidy, wrapped up, complete and clever like a 30-minute sitcom.

Tomorrow I will do Pilates and you will learn a foreign language.

Tomorrow the world will marvel at our feisty air punches and wonder from where the booming Rocky theme song’s booming.

Tomorrow we’ll eat apples and run (ok, jog) the vacuum.

Tomorrow you’ll climb and jump and surely kick things.

Tomorrow will bring us health and vibrance, joy and energy…

and very defined biceps and maybe a six-pack if that’s not asking too much.

Tomorrow we’ll splat on the couch simply because it’s Base in our zooming game of Tag.

Yes, tonight just rest.

We can carpe the hell out of that diem, tomorrow.

Let him sleep, for when he wakes he’ll rule mulch mountains.

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55 thoughts on “Reverie

    • Besides all the snot and death virus and general ickyness, I secretly enjoy when the little guy is all sleepy sick like this. It’s a sweet shift from his normally karate-chopping, chair throwing routine :)

  1. And you’re a poet on top of all that talent. You and Thomas make such a perfect team, I love hearing about your antics, even (and especially) when they amount to the couch. Feel better, and don’t we all dream of more productive tomorrow’s? Tomorrow I WILL NOT stare blankly into space and in front of a blank screen before eating a box of Girl Guide cookies, for instance.

  2. I don’t know why people always call it “doing nothing”. You’re ALWAYS doing something – even if something is de-concentrating hard enough to actually hear IQ points dropping out of your ears. ;)
    Besides, before the slingshot hits the target, ya gotta SLOOOOOOOWLY draw it back. (Yeah, that one kinda went pffft. :D )

  3. “Carpe the hell out of that diem tomorrow.” –> My favorite line from this fabulous post. Carpe diem is overrated anyways. And as the old cliche goes, “Tomorrow is another day.”
    Now excuse me while I go lie on the couch and apply this new favorite life philosophy. I’m feeling a need to be still and do nothing myself. ;)

  4. Beautiful poetry, this. Thanks for the reminder to be super at still. Sometimes I have to tell myself, “you have to be busy relaxing today.”

    • Isn’t it funny how much we have to focus on the simple act of stopping? I have forced lazy days, but I struggle. I’ll find an idle hand reaching for the Windex and I have to get a little stern with my clean freak self: “Don’t you even think about it. Do. Not. Shine. Things.”.

    • I’m just now learning the importance of doing nothing. Not too long ago such a slow day would’ve irritated me, made me feel unproductive. Thanks to a cute kid and a comfy couch I’m getting it now :)

    • This was the new form of rough because the boy is finally old enough to actually say with real words how bad he feels. Makes it that much more heartbreaking when they can cry AND tell you they are feeling awful.

  5. Uhm, seriously Tori…this is a children’s book missing its illustrations. I’m not even playing. I would totally read this to Mel on a sick day. (Or a sad day or a disappointing day or a lazy day or any day.) In fact, I might just go ahead and print off a copy to stash away for such an occasion…because it will come up.

    Do you remember the Shel Silverstein poem about the little girl who pretends to be sick so she doesn’t have to go to school? This entry reminds me of that poem…except less faking illness and more wanting to snuggle in my mommy’s arms and rest the fever away.

    I honestly think you need to be talking to big-wig people in New York, Tori. I’ve said it before…and I’ve been serious every time. You should create a portfolio of your favorite (and maybe even some of your readers’ favorite) posts, send them out to some publishing houses, see what nibbles you get back.

    Beautiful, poetic, reminiscent of my own childhood sick days and likewise resonating deep in my maternal centers for my daughter’s sick days. (It came at the perfect moment–my angel has her first ear infection.)

    • Oh, the ear infection! Those are particularly cruel. I am a little (lot) shocked by all the comments about kid’s books. Maybe because I think lots of f-filled words throughout my day and most closely compare myself to a grumpy old man. Maybe I could write books for really cynical toddlers?

      • That’s okay–thinking the f-filled words is not the same as writing them in a children’s book. Do you think Dr. Seuss really spent his normal day-to-day activities rhyming and making up words about woozles and loozles? Ok, well…maybe he did. Anyway, you get my point. ;) I say: make some cash with this talent of yours!

  6. So hard when they are sick, but the extra cuddles and quiet time together is extra-special, isn’t it? Sounds like a lovely day (apart from the cold virus.) Hope he is feeling better and ruling mulch mountains again soon.

    • This is a strange mom phenomenon. On one hand we go to great lengths to keep our kids from getting sick. On the other hand we secretly love the snuggly time we get with snot-sick babies.

  7. I felt like I was reading a kids book that someone typed up into a post. Seriously. I want this on my bookshelf so I can read it to Li’l D (and for me) on days like the one you describe, which are very similar to those Li’l D and I are going through right now. It’s nice to think of the downtime as part of the uptime, instead of feeling I’m wasting time. In short, I guess what I’m trying to say is, LOVE.

    • The boy feels great! Something about being three makes them bounce back so quickly. I caught the funk (probably from sharing the couch all day), but it’s not too bad. I’m at least half way carpe-ing the hell out of this diem :)

    • Thanks :) I forget to take time to sit still and do nothing once in a while. Nothing like a sick toddler to MAKE you have a lazy day. Good news is we were extra well rested for the tomorrow :)

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  9. I’m so glad to be introduced to you by Seven Clown Circus. You certainly deserved the Wordful Wednesday awesome post mention – what wonderful imagery, such poetry. Even if all of it revolves around sickness and snot, it’s still so sweet. So subtle. I can’t wait to read more!

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