Bed Head

I was inspired to write this post while in the bathroom this morning...looking in the mirror at my crazy-perfect bed head. At 5 a.m.

Once a month, Dave and I have a week where the house is quiet, we have no schedule, and the dishwasher fills with coffee cups instead of plates and forks. {It's that silver lining thing again.} We miss our kids (aka children for those of you more formal than I) very much when they are not with us. We miss the high activity level in the house - we miss the noise of life with two kids. We miss playing dress up and cooking green pepper soup in Ella's bedroom; we miss hearing the (sometimes-annoying) buzzing of Miles's cell phone. It's just...quiet.

On the flip side, we enjoy our freedom. Our freedom from ensuring the kids are properly fed, bathed, brushed, and presentable. Our freedom from picking up their dirty clothes, empty cups, and random toys. Our freedom to socialize with friends in an adult setting.

Last night was one of those nights. We ate dinner out with friends to celebrate a birthday and then went to our favorite adult establishment down by the river. We sat on the patio, listened to the DJ, and drank our cold adult beverages in a responsible fashion. And laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

It was freeing. And glorious.

We had to leave earlier than we wanted, because even though we were free, we were not free from responsibility. Dave has started a job where he works all weekends, and those mornings begin at 4:30. We needed sleep.

The house is where we can be totally free. We reconnect here; we build memories here. We live here; we love here.

It was the perfect crisp, almost-fall night. All of the windows were closed except two in the bedroom (I wanted to let in a little cool air, but did not wish to make it polar ice cap in here). We climbed into bed and I snuggled up to my love. There is this spot on Dave's chest that is my spot to put my head. It is located just below his shoulder, and I fit there perfectly. My anatomy-geek friends (whom I love dearly) probably know the proper term for this piece of real estate on Dave's chest; however, I call it my spot. (And wouldn't that be weird if I called it my spot and that spot on every man's chest was called my spot? I would have to go around signing that spot on every man because it was named after me. I'd never get anything done.)

I curled up, kissed Dave good night, and fell into the most relaxing sleep. Ever.

It was a deep sleep, filled with nothing but sleeping. I had no dreams (that I can recall) and did not wake until the alarm(s) went off at 4:30. When I wiped the sleep from my eyes and walked into the bathroom, I noticed that my bed head this morning was perfect. My hair looked better at 5 a.m. than it did last night when we were out on the town. I woke up in a state of perfection, after having a perfect night's sleep.

{bliss}