Rather than being up

last night with Jackie from him being sick, or coughing, or just restless and needed mama or me, he wanted to play; he wanted to talk and joke and show off his funny voice acts.  At first I went into this room from hearing slight coughing and him citing some ache in his leg.. but that faded, quick after some sped cartoon screening.  Then I pulled out the mattress under his bed, set in that large holder or under-cabinet.  He quickly fell into his joking mode, talking to me and asking if I remembered certain things, bits and jokes we share like throwing his stuffed animals from the bed to the floor, over me on the pull-out bed pretending they fly.

So now we’re up, all us, and the only one with energy and vocality is he, little Jack, my little Beat, now watching cartoons so he’s contained and content, and I struggle with no coffee in the house.  Can barely wait for that larger than large cup of med’ roast from the Yulupa spot.  I have to push through this exhaustion, like the winemakers I saw at the crush pad that one day, a couple weeks ago, my jovial and ever-theatric friend Hardy smiling and saying how nice it was to see me, moments after conceding how tired he was but I couldn’t tell.  He seemed just fine, flying around the pad going form bin to bin and barrel to barrel.  I have to shift and re-shape my attitude this morning as PARENT, writer and soon-again-winemaker.  Keep my Self in movement’s lip…