Skip to main content

The Best Kind of Tired

 


My often daily life . . . (John is two feet away—I can’t do all of them by myself)

Last week, every single time I sat down, I almost instantly fell asleep.  I kept telling John, I have the sleeping disease.  What is going on?  Am I getting old?  Is it the covid after effects?  What on earth?

He didn’t have any answers for me because he was doing the same thing.  

We didn’t really do anything for seven days straights.  

And our kids joined us in the sleepy, do nothing, lazy slug bug state.

It wasn’t until this morning as I was looking over the pictures of the summer that I realized why. . . We literally haven’t stopped ALL summer long—one awesome amazing trip/visit/fun after the other.  It’s like we are making up for last years “staycations.”  Holy hannah have we ever made up for it.  Just about did ourselves in playing and hugging and kissing and caring for babies.

Highlights of the summer (in no particular order):

  • Cousin sleepovers have resumed (most missed activity since the pandemic)
  • Going out to pick the perfect, gloriously abundant sour cherries only to discover they were ALL worm filled (why a highlight? Because it was soooooo sad and also so gross)
  • Finn’s dance concert (five year dream realized)
  • David and Allie’s wedding and all the family gathering and preparations and all the love that filled up every single bit of the weeks leading up to it
  • Pagosa Springs: finally visiting Lone Rock, 4mile falls, Summer Solstice Dance Party, pull ups, Oculous, so much mountain biking (love ebikes), David and Allie and dogs, almond pancakes, Finn running seven miles (I could NOT keep up), Alberta Peak, Disc Golf, and having Seth with us
  • Lake Powell: Living on the water, lake showering, food, crazy water games, Harley mauling rescue, Celia breaking her finger, Jake almost breaking his finger, hours of surfing, beading, cards, paddle boarding, toilet issues, laughter.  So.  Much.  Laughter (and love)!
  • Laughing with (at) Hero.  
  • Hero, Zuzu, Alfie.
  • Barbara and family living with us for two beautiful weeks—a two week party! And they moved here so it keeps going on!
  • Kyra and Patrick and Evie and Marek and Luke—warmth in every possible way.  Missing them with my whole heart.
  • Little Henry’s Birthday (party at the pool!)
  • Finishing my second book (first draft) and feeling so grateful to have something I really love to do—even if I never have time to do it!  
  • Lunch and hikes with old friends I haven’t seen in months/years. Old friends are so so so dear
  • Weekend St George get away with Piper and her friend Abbie.  Walmart Bikes, getting lost runs, lost of swimming, so much heat, hikes, ice cream, thunder and lighting storms, and boy talk. So.  Much.  Fun. 
  • Girls camp—everything that went wrong, went right.  Sweetest, happiest, most helpful FUN girls. Literally best camp EVER!
  • Zuzu and Alfie turn 100 days—sleep through the night, almost never cry, love snuggles and to smile, take the bottle, crazy fluffy hair girls—old
  • Sitting on my back porch in the summer warm air feeling grateful for this life, for my family, friends, and time

There have been a thousand and one really really hard times this summer—children worries, parents health, friends who we haven’t seen, not enough sleep, disappointments, hurts, burned meals, garden that didn’t grow, colds that lasted weeks, and injuries (that needed surgeries).  Sometimes, I felt buried under all the hard things.  I lost my perspective and felt heavy and dull and without any ideas of how to navigate all these new challenges.  

Yet looking back on this summer slice of my life, I see that for the most part, everything seems to iron itself out.  I had reservations and concerns about each trip, each visit, and each new opportunity that arose, and each time I was more than pleasantly surprised at how well things went—even went hey went badly (Celia’s broken finger or Girls camp that sort of got rained out)—they turned out ok.   Not exactly pleasant while you’re going through it, but when you’re on the other side looking back, it seems sort of cool and amazing.

So even though this summer has whopped me, I am grateful for the tired.  The very very best kind of loving to the fullest, maybe too full, tired.

And now, I’m going back to sleep.

























Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Forced Frugality

  We are going on ten months of looking for a job.   Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot.  It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us.  Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible.  The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health.  By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping.  He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined.  I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment.  And it may take all that.  And I still won't regret it.   When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things.   In fact, there is part of me (small though it

Midlife-Cri-sis

It's been a year.   I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me.   The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar.   There have a been a lot of losses or near losses.  Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this .  More times than not, I need that deep breath. I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it.  47.  My children are nearly grown.  My house is established.  Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things.  I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without.   I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this?   For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years .  It's about re-writing o