Ugh. I'm so tired right now I could puke. Or maybe I feel that way because I just inhaled three Klondike bars. I tend to go for the high-fat, high-sugar foods when I'm exhausted. But no, no, don't worry. I know what you are thinking and Oliver is still sleeping to the tune of 12 hours last night thank you very much. No, I'm totally wiped out because, oddly enough, I'm lucky enough to have someone help me look after the kids these days and so I can finally scrape out a little time for myself. It has been years since I had this kind of luxury. Years. My world is expanding and it is a little exhausting but mostly exhilarating.
I've been taking a yoga class once a week for the past 6 months and yesterday my instructor decided to kick it up a notch and take us through a Kundalini series designed to target the lymphatic system. She said it was the easiest one and if that is true I'm going to consider dropping out because my ass has been kicked. I felt pretty good during the session even though I kind of sensed I would be sore afterwards. Sore is a complete understatement. I'm on the second floor of our house right now and I can't even contemplate going downstairs for another Klondike bar because I doubt I would make it back up again.
And if that weren't enough, I volunteered to help out our local autism group which had a table set up to do face painting at an event today. Sure, I said gamely, not realizing what I was getting myself into. First, the place was packed and since we were right inside the door every kid passed right by our booth and ended up in line if he or she could talk his insane parents into standing in one of the the 90-minute long lines. (I mean seriously: who would wait that long to have their kids face painted?!) Secondly, there weren't enough chairs to go around so I ended up squatting in front of all those lovely, squirmy kids for four hours. Yes, I said four hours -- at the end of which I got chewed out because I had the nerve to tell some lady that yes, I really was too exhausted to paint even just one more grubby little cheek even though she didn't know there was a face painting table until just now when I was packing up to go. Then I cursed myself for biking to the event despite the fact that I was congratulating myself for it on the way there. I barely made it home and when I did the ingesting of the Klondike bars started. I took a short break from sucking in the calories to paint a rocket and a lightning bolt on the most goregously grubby cheeks framed by red hair that I know. Then I kicked everyone out of house -- I mean, I politely asked hubby to take the kids to the park -- grabbed my third and I swear my last Klondike bar and came upstairs to blog. I've been missing this place!
I may never again get out of this chair. And that would make me very happy because then at last I would have a chance to write the post I've been meaning to about the extra super spectacular vacation that we took last week.
So even though I'm tired, I hope I never paint another cheek, I'm not sure my abs, arms or ass will recover from the yoga (or the ice cream), I still feel pretty good. I feel wide and full -- and not just from the Klondike bars. After years and years of contracting, of pulling in and focusing on the closest, most important things -- it feels pretty damn good to feel myself exhaling into the sweet, sweet expansion.