Hi.
The kids are down.
Or at least the house is quiet.
And you finally got to lie down.
Somebody called "Mom" or "Dad"...
a few hundred times today.
Starting before the sun came up.
For the next six minutes...
nobody needs you.
This part is just for you.
Let yourself notice how tired you are.
Not the version you show everyone.
The real one.
Tired behind the eyes.
Tired in the lower back.
From bending and lifting all You day.
don't have to push through it There's now.
nothing left to push through.
Maybe there's a toy under your hip.
Go ahead and toss it on the floor.
Then let the bed hold you.
The rain can keep time.
Think back over today.
Just loosely.
The lunches packed.
The crusts cut off, or left on.
Whatever the rule is this week.
The drive to school.
The drive back again for pickup.
Then soccer practice across town.
Dinner that half of them didn't eat.
The bath.
The second glass of water at bedtime.
And the one more story.
That turned into two.
"Can I have a snack?"
"Where's my other shoe?"
"Watch this."
You answered all of it.
Or most of it.
Most of it is plenty.
Maybe you lost your patience once.
Maybe twice.
That happens to every parent.
It doesn't cancel out the rest.
The hugs count more.
Breathe in slowly...
And let the whole day out.
Long and slow.
Once more.
In...
And out...
the requests going quiet.
Now let's go through your body.
From the top.
Nice and slow.
Start with your scalp.
Maybe your hair was up all day.
Let it spread out on the pillow.
Your eyes.
They've been watching everyone.
Let them rest behind the lids.
Your Let jaw.
it go soft.
No "not more right now" tonight.
Your neck and shoulders.
They carried a sleepy kid...
a laundry basket...
the Let groceries.
them Heavier sink.
than they want Your to be.
arms.
Down to your hands.
Your hands can finally be empty.
No sippy cup.
No sticky fingers to wipe.
Let them lie open on the blanket.
Your chest.
Let it rise on its own.
Your belly.
Soft.
Nobody is climbing on it now.
Did you eat dinner sitting Or down?
standing at the counter?
Either way, you're lying down now.
Your hips and lower back.
Let them settle into the mattress.
Your legs.
All those stairs.
All that standing at the stove.
Let them grow heavy and quiet.
And your feet.
Warm under the covers.
Done walking for today.
Your whole body is heavy now.
And still.
A small sound down the hall?
If it's nothing...
let it be nothing.
If someone needs you later...
you'll wake up.
You always do.
You don't have to listen for them now.
Your body will do that part.
They're sleeping.
You can too.
The permission slip can wait.
So can the pile on the dryer.
They'll both be there at seven.
Just the rain.
Soft on the roof.
Breathing in...
And out...
You did enough today.
You really did.
Tomorrow will start early.
That's okay.
Sleep is waiting now.
Let yourself be looked after now.
By the bed.
By the rain.
Goodnight.