I was asking myself which way I should make my bed. Just pull the duvet up and toss the pillows on or fold the duvet over and style the pillows nicely. Maybe I will be a total rebel, revel in all sorts of willy nilly and not make it at all, I think to myself. I was feeling like I could justify ignoring my bed a bit. I had a sink full of dishes, babies to feed and bite and three other kids with a long list of summer adventures filling their daydreams. I decided to fold the duvet over because whenever I ask myself those kinds of questions, I always end up taking the "extra mile" route.

It's kind of like me with shopping carts. I am generally mindful to run the shopping cart back. And even though I park next to the Shopping Cart Return to simplify, there are those few occasions where I don't. Where the kids are going nuts, the babies are fussing, and let's face it; I'm just wanting to get home ASAP. I will tell myself that just this once it is okay to leave the cart. But then it comes. That guilt over the fact that some poor kid is going to have to work extra hard in the heat/cold to wrangle all the stray carts. And maybe, just maybe, my extra cart will be the one to send him into a fit, make him quit his job, and never go to college. So I sigh and return the cart anyway.

Okay already! I will make the bed pretty! I looked at my bed with satisfaction. Such a fluffy welcoming bed that tells me I don't hang around as much as I should. "But I have five kids and a set of twins.", I tell it. "But look how soft and pretty I am now that you dressed me." "I know bed, I know. There will come a time when I will visit more often." "Just for a minute?!", the bed pleads. And then it happened. I gave in. Just like that I fell right into my soft pillow and into sweet bliss. As quickly as I hit the bed I began negotiating the terms of my stay. Two minutes and that's it! I started bouncing my thumb on my hip in thought. There is definitely more bounce on this hip then there should be I think to myself. I need to get on that. Then I think about breakfast for the babies. Stonyfield yogurt and pureed berries I thought. I laid there staring into the ceiling fan. There is a slight, slow mechanical wallop sound and I think to myself that even my fan has a southern accent. The shadows on the ceiling change quickly as a group of clouds moved over head. I think to myself that I should blink.

"Pssssst!". Stinky Pete has slithered in silently and is now staring at me sideways. He leaps up on to the bed effortlessly and immediately begins to jump. "Hey, Mom! Loot at me!" Then he starts into his signature break dance moves. He tells me to "Look!" repeatedly so I won't miss his next trickier trick. All the while he has that look on his face. That look of I am so cool becauseiamabreakdancerandiloveitwhenmymomcheersmeon look. Then he asks me to MC a break dance show on the bed for him. I smile and grab my imaginary mic and we are set. "Wasssuuuup yo! Welcome to the greatest break dancing event in history. Tonight the Red Devil will blow you away........" My two minutes in bed turned into more like fifteen (because after any good dance-off there has to be tickling. Lots of tickling). Soon, Stinky Pete moved on to his next conquest and I was energized. Thanks bed. 'Til we meet again, bed.