Tonight, when I was on my knees shoving a plastic knife up into the roller thingy of my carpet steamer in order to extract wet globs of dog hair…I had a moment. A good moment. A laughy kind of moment.

I thought back to a Sunday morning about fourteen years ago. Sun streamed through the French doors of my bedroom. Moxie and Zoe, the dachshunds, lay in a snoozy little pile on the white carpet. The phone rang–it was my friend, Beth.

She asked, “Hey! What are you doing?”

I glanced at the clock. 11:30 a.m. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Cleaning up a little.” I was lying like a rug. Beth had a toddler and another one on the way. I frequently lied to her about how busy I wasn’t. I didn’t want to rub it in.

A pause fell between us, a silence on the line before she screeched, “ARE YOU STILL IN THE BED??”

I snorted then confessed. “Yeah, but I’m not even sleeping any more. Just laying here with a book.” I didn’t tell her that I had been reading for three hours. That I was eating fresh cherries and orange juice that I had driven all the way in to Atlanta to get.

“Oh. My. God. It’s been YEARS since I got to do that.”

Now Beth’s toddler is driving and on the golf team. Tempus fugit and all, y’all.

And me? The one who was lolling around in bed at lunchtime on a Sunday? I’m living the dream. I left the feverish toddler at home with G so I could go to work. Went to therapy on my lunch hour to clean out my head. Picked a logo for the new project at work. Did some moving, did some shaking. Picked up Vivi from school and took her grocery shopping, where we practiced math in the produce department and made up a song about Froot Loops. Two hundred dollars poorer, we drove through Chic-fil-a to pick up dinner. I fed the kids, talked about girl drama with the teenager, patted the sick boy, fed the dog. Got the kids in bed then cleaned blueberry smoothie barf out of the carpet. Then cleaned the steamer with a plastic knife because I should have vacuumed first. Then did two loads of laundry and addressed 25 birthday party invitations. Now it’s 11:39 and I’m sitting down to write this because I start to nut up if I go too many days without writing.

I get it Beth. I swear I do. Thank you for being patient with me back then. It’s been years for me now, too.

Another Sunday morning and a different Beth….One time, about the same thirteen years ago, I needed to call my brother’s house about something. I waited until 9 a.m. because I didn’t want to be rude. My sister-in-law, Beth, answered.

“Hey! It’s Ashley–I hope it’s not too early to call. I didn’t want to wake up the boys.”

She hooted. “OH RIGHT! Please–they’re both in time out and I’ve already had to use Liquid Stitches! What’s up with you?”

THAT is the life I’m living right now. Both Beths–I totally get you.