It's 9pm. John is out of town and the girls are all in bed. I made it through triple bedtime routines with patience and even a measure of enjoyment. No one came out after goodnight – okay, just once times two for another drink of water, but that was before the final kiss so I won't count that – and I even got a bit of work done already.
I've decided to fill this final hour with yoga rather than dishes. So I salute the sun and meet the half moon and finally find shoulderstand. My mind is empty but as the blood fills my brain a single word sounds in the silence: headstand.
But I'm in the middle of the room – no wall for support. Last time I hurt my neck doing this. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough. I've never gotten this quite right.
I think none of these things. Plant my head onto the ground and kick up. Find balance. Surprise myself.
Now it's 10 and I grab a glass of water in the kitchen. Open the coffee pot to prepare tomorrow's brew – John's chore, one I rather despise. But it's already done. A simple gesture, one that says Thanks again for letting me go have some fun while you hold down the fort around here. I hear his words.
And Ruthie crying. I settle her back to sleep and put the diapers in the dryer and write this all down.
It's 11 – way too late for me to be up. But it was a good night.