Too tired.

So I guess I’ll never sleep again, I muttered under my breath as I bounced from baby’s room to six-year-old’s room at three a.m. on a Monday…or Tuesday, I guess. Bouncing isn’t the right word, actually. I sluggishly sauntered. I dragged myself from point A to B to C to What Day is Today and Where Am I.

Elsie had woken up and couldn’t get back to sleep. It wasn’t big scary dreams or a need for a sip of water or a sick feeling or anything at all, really. She was just up. This happens to me too, and so I get it. Sometimes we can’t sleep. Big people and little people alike, we all struggle sometimes with this. And as an aside, the baby is teething and there’s a new puppy in our lives, so I’m not sleeping anyway, like ever. So, back to my original thought…I guess I’ll never sleep again.

We sat in her twin bed, her favorite now-worn grey blanket wrapped around our bodies and talked for a bit. She lobbied to move to the living room, warm up by the fire and snuggle in, watching a movie until we drifted back to sleepy-town. I agreed, and off we went.

We watched half of a movie and fell into a light slumber on the couch together. A sweet moment, but as we woke just a couple of hours later, I just knew that the day ahead of us would be a struggle.

I muddled through morning routine.

I drank a helluva lot of coffee.

I didn’t workout.

I jammed through zoom calls, reapplying lipstick so I at least looked put-together.

I responded to emails.

I did laundry.

I put out fires.

I planned and made dinner.

I cleaned.

Also, I did baby stuff and puppy stuff over and over and over and over and over and over again.

And toward the end of the day, I looked at Elsie and I asked her if she wanted to do something. You have to forgive the lack of detail here because, you know, tired. I can’t remember. But what I do remember is this - her reply.

No mom, I can’t. I’m just too tired.

Ugh. I wish I had said that one thousand times throughout the course of my day. But I didn’t. And at the end of the day, I full on collapsed onto my bed wearing yesterday’s sweatpants and my hair up high. I was too tired to wash my makeup off my face and to do literally anything else other than roll over and fall asleep at 9 p.m.

But what if at some point in my day, I tried out those words? Would I have more gas left in the tank for the other things I wanted to do that evening? What if I took a break or looked out for myself instead of feeling like there was power in just powering through? The hard part too is I love doing all of those things that I did this day. Usually they fill my tank. Today was different, because you can’t start an engine without any fuel, even if you only want to drive to the gas station.

I don’t know.

I do know that there is just so much muscle that comes from just naming our feelings, and being too tired is a pretty important feeling. So is happiness and fear and gratitude and worry and anxiety and all of it really. And right now, in what feels like year one hundred trillion in living socially distanced as we get through this pandemic, I wonder who isn’t just a little bit tired.

Own it.

Leave the dishes in the sink.

Order delivery.

Call a friend.

Close your eyes for ten minutes at two p.m.

Maybe that email can wait until tomorrow. You might be better for it, too.

XO