That sense of just utter exhaustion, when you feel as though it would be such a blissful relief to melt down into a nice, soft clean bed with no toddlers in it? When you can feel it in your shoulders and in your lungs and your legs and in your poor tired brain, that’s so ready to just relax and not hear “MOMMY!” over and over and over again…
I’m so there.
Marc’s lost over thirty pounds – which is wonderful. Really, great. I mean, he put on so much weight with me when I was pregnant with Jess, and it’s fabulous that he’s devoted and dedicated and putting so much time and effort and committed to it. But… there are nights when I’m so completely ready for another adult, someone to distract Sam, just long enough for me to put Jess to bed by herself. And then keep him busy and happy for another hour or so – just long enough for me to collapse with a good book and nobody pulling on me or asking for a drink or complaining that Sam’s sitting on her, or Jessie won’t play with him (probably because he won’t stop sitting on her).
I don’t mean to complain. Really, I don’t. I’m just tired and wishing it was an hour or two from now. The kids will drift off to sleep easily enough tonight, I’m sure. Jess had her first day back to school in several days, and Sam took a shorter nap today than usual. I just need enough energy and sunshine to get thru until then.
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