Pulling myself out of bed

I've always dreamed that I would  be like one of those Disney girls, jumping out of bed, singing a song of love.  Smiling, they are always smiling. 

I am not smiling when I wake.  I have to drag myself out of my very vivid dreams.  Lately they are fantasies that I wish I were living and very hard to leave.  Last night I lived as a magical dancing spirit, feet fluttering and soaring.  Waking from that dream and dragging my tired, sore and crinkly body out of bed was miserable.  My eyes seemed sealed shut, my back hardly straight, my tummy flipping. Coffee in hand, I ignore my resolution to drink two liters of water before anything else.  So, I already feel the guilt of failing and not following through. 

I muster up the courage to get dressed, improve my mood and wake up Little B.  The compassion rips at my heart as I then force B to do the same thing that I just had to do...wake from his dreams.  And similar to me he is not happy to have been woken.  He moans and cries while I dress him, carry him to the couch where the sun can warm him up.  He drinks a little juice, turkey bacon for the car ride, though he doesn't eat it.  I tell him when we are settled in the car that I understand exactly how he feels!  I say with much enthusiasm that we are going to have a most wonderful and exciting day.  I let that sink in and a couple of minutes later I turn back to tell him "I love you."  He squirms in his seat and utters, with his thumb in his mouth and a smile on his face.  "I LOVE YOU!"

Tomorrow I'll remind myself when I can't get out of bed that the first I LOVE YOU of the day is the most special part. Maybe that is what I should be dreaming about.  I can leave the smiles and the singing to the professionals and just put my foot on the floor and breath.