One T*quila, Two T*quila..

Before we get too far into this let me just clarify that this is not a post about drinking.. rather it’s an explanation of how a thirty something ends up on the floor!

As I spent the second night in a row laying on the floor of my living room, that before that very moment I believed was just an oh so comfy floor being covered in carpeting and all (it’s not by the way) I couldn’t help but think back on all the times I had awoken on the floor previous to this and felt as fresh as a Tulip peeking out from the dirt.

In my younger years I had LOVED laying on the floor and had spent many a nights doing things that made the floor the best place to be for the evening. You know those nights… where the bed was just too high or the couch was just too far away or when you literally just couldn’t manage to get too far from the tub (or other bathroom type novelty). And in the morning I always woke up ready to go! I never ached or felt like my hip may have disconnected from it’s socket from sticking too hard into the floor. I never woke up every 45 mins to change positions leaving me utterly exhausted in the morning. I never wished for morning so that I could get up and stretch out my back.

But most of all I would have never imagined that my thirty somethings would bring me into an era in which I HATED sleeping on the floor! Of course the reasoning behind my recent two day stint on the living room floor had been that my oldest child was sick and wanted to sleep on the couch, and only the couch until he felt better. And obviously he woke me up about every 15 minutes for a myriad of things like that he was thirsty, he thought he might need to get sick (but never actually did), he had to pee, he needed a stuffed animal and then my favorite was when he would wake me up to make sure I was still there. So interesting, because I mean where else would I be since my body was literally right in front of him.

Any ways…kids do that you I guess right, they make you want to do things that you would NEVER do unless they needed you to. Although I may not like sleeping on the floor anymore at least I know that in 16 and a half years when I can enjoy myself again (HAHA) I will probably survive a night or two on the floor.

If nothing else these recent horrible nights on my not soft at all carpet left me wondering as we grow older do we grow wiser or just less tolerant of things that used to seem like no big deal to us?

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