Last month I learned a great little descriptive phrase from a friend called The 11s. Not sure what I am describing? Perhaps this will help:
LOL! Yep, that right there, folks, is my (are my? oh my) 11s. Loud and proud and crankily on display.
I would like to credit my children with my 11s, but it is just as likely that over a decade-ish of various teaching gigs (not yoga – I don’t use my 11s in yoga) has contributed to the cause, not to mention that I am life-long eye roller and forehead/eyebrow expresser. Those are things, are they not?
So why talk about the 11s now? Other than their awesomeness, you mean? Because yesterday was part kick ass and a bunch of parts 11s because sleep has been eluding me lately. And I can’t even blame the baby because it is not his fault that I am not sleeping – it is that I am piling too many things in my days and nights and when I finally try to crash at night, my brain goes HA! NOPE. and suddenly I found myself Wednesday night and into way too many of the early hours of Thursday evaluating not only all that I had going on, but also what can change so I start sleeping again.
Simply put, I have to put No Thank You back into my vocabulary, and not just to outside requests, but within the walls of my own house and even within the unlimited expanse that is my mind some days (and nights). I know what kind of boundaries work for me with commitment and technology and I have not been honoring them. Henceforth, the abundance of 11s as of late.
Perhaps with a bit of intention (and wee bit of cold cream or some other “wonder” product), I can lesson the intensity of my wrinkles and increase the good lines – the laugh-inspired ones – instead.
And I promise, more about the kick-ass-ness of this week to come soon. 😉