It Happens Every Night

At some point during the evening, I think to myself, "This is great!  I'll get the boys in bed, and then I'll have time to do all the dishes and do a good clean-up of the kitchen and get a load of laundry going and maybe even attack the endless pile of papers that accumulate on the counter by the telephone.  I'm going to get so much done!"

But honestly, by the time I get all the boys in bed--and then deal with all the I'm-thirsty, I-need-to-go-to-the-bathroom, I-forgot-to-tell-Daddy-goodnight excuses they use for getting out of bed--I'm beat.  Whipped.  Exhausted.  Completely worn out.  

I have this vivid impression of pouring myself out for my children, and I realize that there are very, VERY few things more important that I could be pouring myself out for.  So I don't mind it, but I wish that somehow, doing household tasks in the evening after the boys are in bed could replace that poured-out feeling with a filled-up feeling.  Somehow, though, I just don't get that from standing in the kitchen with my hands in a dishpan!

What normally happens is that I sit down, I rest my feet, I turn my brain to neutral, I read the mail, I go online...I do something that doesn't demand much physical or mental exertion.  Sometimes, after a little time goes by, I can summon up my strength and actually accomplish something productive, something household-related, during the hours between when the boys go to bed and when I hit the sack.  But too many times, I just can't seem to do it.

I really need to be more disciplined.  Sigh.

I really need to go to bed.  Right now.

Before I do, here's a picture I took in our yard this morning.

I like this picture.  I like dandelions.  I like them when they're yellow; I like them when they're white.  I especially like them when I can capture their little seeds flying off into the wind.

I talk type too much.  Enough about dandelions!

I like my bed.  I'm going now...  :)