Eleven Minutes

That's exactly how long it took for my family to find me.

After dinner last night, I was so sleepy and exhausted, I couldn't keep my eyes open. 

The kids were not bleeding  playing well together, my husband was busy taking care of our 30+ lizards we have now (please, don't ask.  Or wait. Do ask. Especially if you're interested in taking one. Or ten) so I decided to sneak into the bedroom and take a "time out".  
My husband often falls asleep on the couch after a long, hard day at work.  So, I'm entitled every now and then, right?

On our bed was the 2 loads of clean laundry that was waiting to be folded.  At first, I was discouraged and felt like I should take care of it before laying down on the bed.  That feeling didn't last long. 

I went to the far side of the bed, pulled the comforter over me and burrowed under the laundry, looked at the clock and closed my eyes.

I didn't sleep, I could hear everything that went on in the house.  But, I zoned out for a while. 
Eleven minutes.  My husband came into the bedroom looking for me once but the laundry was my friend and kept me hidden. I could hear the kids looking for me in the bathroom.  In the garage.  In their rooms. 

I must admit, I only felt slightly guilty for making them look for me. Mostly, I felt triumphant in my hiding skills.

Finally, my husband came back into the bedroom and saw my nose poking out of the pile of clean towels and socks.

I don't know if I should be flattered that my family can't live without me for such a minimal amount of time, or worried.

Perhaps I should take a "time out" more often in order to wean them off of me so I can perhaps, someday, have a full nap?

But, I think the days will come soon enough that my kids won't need me and won't even notice that I'm not in the room.  I should count my blessings, I think .