My eyes fluttered as I sat on the couch listening to the rain tap, tap, tap on the windows. I straightened up in the seat, then eagerly grasped my coffee mug, hoping the afternoon caffeine would assist in bringing me back into the right time zone.
During last week’s amazing #SonyClub trip to San Diego (more on that soon), I remained on East Coast time for my entire visit…until I returned home of course. Since Saturday I’ve been struggling to readjust my body by three hours, and it was quite apparent that I still hadn’t reprogrammed my internal clock by Monday.
So as I looked around at my boys quietly playing Legos, and my daughter happily coloring on the floor next to me, I did something I never do…
I close my eyes.
My kids are all old enough now where this probably shouldn’t worry me as much as it does, but several times I jolted upright only to find my daughter cheerfully humming as she colored and the boys commencing Lego battle scenes on the kitchen table.
I thought that a five minute cat nap would revive me for that final push through dinner, bath and bedtime.
Just five minutes…
I closed my eyes.
Imagine my surprise when I awoke a full seventeen minutes later – I felt like a new woman!
Better still, all of the kids were still accounted for, no one was bleeding or crying, and nothing was on fire! What a win!
With my new found energy I threw some chicken in the oven, and noticed as I was washing my hands that the rain had stopped. “Why not get some more things done while dinner was cooking?” I thought.
I moved outside and worked swiftly pulling weeds and trimming up some of my flowers. The rain had moved on for the most part, and I didn’t mind the few passing drops as I made my way from one flowerbed to the next. My kids played around me outside and maintained their good behavior only interrupting me once to retrieve a ball stuck in a holly bush.
My shirt was now soaked since I had to practically enter the giant green shrub, but I happily went about my flowers figuring I’d enjoy my new found energy while it lasted.
When a neighbor stopped by I happily chatted about my trip, but was momentarily distracted by a mosquito that must have flown up the back of my shirt. I pulled at the garment which was practically sticking to me, moved my hand around and scratched my skin before refocusing on our conversation.
Feeling a few more drops of rain hit my cheeks, I ran my fingers across my face and was slightly taken aback by my neighbor’s face.
“Uh, you have something on your cheek…” she said.
Immediately, I worried it was another blood-thirsty mosquito, so I rubbed my hands all over my face which made my neighbor let out a squeal of laughter.
“What? What?” I begged.
“Your face! Your face!” she nearly cried. “You’ve got something on your hands! It’s all over your face!”
Sure enough, as I looked down at my hands, they were covered in marker? No, paint? What was this? And further still, where did it come from?
I spun around, half expecting to find the source of the marks, when my neighbor exclaimed, “Lift up your shirt! Turn around!”
At this point my jet lag had returned full force, I had expended all the energy gained from my cat nap, and I felt like I had no idea what was happening. Even still I did what she instructed, and I saw green and red marks on my back.
I probably looked like a dog chasing its tail as I continued to move in a circular motion trying to get a better look.
“What the…” I started to say, but was drowned out by the sound of my neighbor’s laughter.
Upon further investigation, the marks, which were red and green in color, were all along my lower back, forming a pattern along the area where one might find “tramp stamp.” My new tramp stamp also appeared to be made with an ink pad, and adding insult to injury, the stamps used to make the impressions were of cakes, donuts and cherries.
Yeah, that’s right, I had cake stamps on my muffin tops.
Is that ironic? It seems ironic.
So who is the culprit? Well, the list of suspects is short. The forensics, and basic common sense, indicate that the crime must have occurred during the seventeen minutes of (deep, REM) sleep I had on the couch.
The little one pictured in the top right seemed edgy. Her eyes darted back and forth, she hid her ink covered hands behind her back and would call out, “Joey did it!” Then “Jake did it!” Finally, “Baxter loves ink!“ which was true, but the dog looked clean. Also, she was elbow deep in craft supplies as I drifted off to sleep.
I’m not detective, but my money is on the little one. Although, until I can give her a polygraph, or she buckles under interrogation, this one is will remain unsolved.
Have you ever napped while your kids were awake? What was the result? Leave me a comment and let me know! Tell me if you liked the story too – I’d love to hear from you!