AFTER MIDNIGHT

"You can't stay out after midnight?"

"Why?"

"Because NOTHING good happens after midnight. Nothing."

Fought over that one in high school but in retrospect, mom was right. Wish I had listened.

But now? After midnight I can breathe a sigh of relief because the kids are--usually--in bed by midnight. Once the kids are asleep, it's as if the house itself heaves a sigh of relief.

I can check emails uninterrupted, write on my blog, watch what I want, eat cold pizza, read without constant interruption. Whatever I choose. But generally, I sit confused, thinking of all the things I should do; all the things I meant to do during the day.

Into the early morning hours, after realizing I'm not really doing anything productive, I lay in bed. Yet, rather than go to sleep, my mind goes into rewind mode and I reflect back on the day--days that fly faster and faster leaving little time for introspection.

After midnight, in the calm of my bedroom, the questions and worries surface.

Why did I have to lose my composure when my younger son didn't do his homework? Why didn't I help instead? Why do I always pontificate and yell at my older son when I should spend more time listening. I want to have more patience with them but the fast pace, the relentless juggling act, and all the distractions make it so difficult.

I meant to go to the grocery store so I could make a nice dinner but I ended up ordering pizza instead. I didn't do all the laundry I wanted to do; the laundry I did was never put away. The house was cleaned, but the kids trashed it and I was too busy to notice until they were in bed and it was after midnight.

I promised my father I would call him back earlier in the day but did not do so. I should have called my mother since I haven't spoken to her in a week. I got a stinging rebuke from my brother because I didn't acknowledge an article that was written about him in Guitar Magazine. I really should have called to congratulate him. But I didn't. I vow to do so the following day, but know I likely will not.

I think about the failure of my marriage. I don't regret the dissolution of a marriage that was likely destined for failure before we walked down the aisle. Was I such a fool? Why was I so blind to see what just about everyone else saw. Then I allowed myself to remain in a unfulfilling mess of a relationship for 17 years. (Let me add that the redemption of my marriage is my two boys.)

Thoughts turn to the many people who have touched my life--I've lost contact with most of them. They may not think about me during the mayhem of the day, but do they think of me after midnight? Wonder if they think to pick up the phone and call--or if they're just too tired like I am.

I take a Tylenol PM or two and read until I fall asleep, book in hand, glasses on. The alarm rings at 6:45 and as I groggily rise, I sigh, knowing what's in store for the day.