February Fatigue Meets Motherhood...Again.

THIS JUST IN!!!!!!!!!

I'm really tired.

Honestly?  I could end the post right there.  Y'all would totally understand.  Like this cartoon I recently found:

February seems to be a very "tired" month for me.  I realized this today, because I thought back to this time last year, when I was too exhausted to bake my husband's birthday cake.  And by baking I mean opening a box, cutting the bag of powdery magic open, haphazardly dumping it into a bowl, and adding my customary 3 ingredients.  But hey, it's all about God's provision and He provided in a beautiful, amazing way that I will never forget.  His cake was made for him.  Yet, for me.  Better than I've ever made it.  And that night will always be so incredibly special to me.  Always :)

See, wintertime is sleepy season.  But those of us with fuuuuhhhhteeeeg know that it's so much more than just being sleepy.  And summertime seems to be depression season.  I don't know which I like worse.  I don't know that it matters.

Anyway.  This past Friday, our amazing "little" girl turned 17.  We had so many plans to celebrate.  My mother had a rare day off, my kids are on winter break, and so am I.  We planned a "birthday crawl" in which we'd have an early breakfast at her favorite place, lunch at her favorite place, a giant family dinner, and maybe go out to the coffee house to listen to some local musical talents late that night.  You guys, I was SO excited for the day!  I woke up at my usual early morning time.  I consumed my usual amount of caffeine.  I sat in my desk chair and took. it. all. in.  17 years.  Where has that time even gone?  I grabbed the baby book and photo album.  I looked through the hospital pics of her in all her perfect beauty.  The smiles on my parents' faces.  I recalled the tears in my husband's eyes as he looked down at me and said, "You did great!"  That was right before my pressure dropped through the floor, monitors started singing, and the lights went out, but nothing's easy where I'm concerned ;)  I soaked it all in, reliving every beautiful memory.  Then, I looked at present day pictures and wiped tears from my eyes.  She's just so...awesome.  She always has been.  Where has the time gone?

No, really.  Where's the time gone...

Because I sat down in my desk chair at 6am.  How did 4.5hrs go by?  And lunch reservations with mom in an hour?  Good job, self...you done missed stop #1 of the crawl.  And you don't even know how, do you.  At least dismount from the desk chair, drag a brush through your hair, and get to stop #2 on time, shall we?

By the time we got in from a fantastic lunch with Mom, I could barely keep my eyes open.  My daughter encouraged me to take a nap, but I was stubborn and insisted I was fine, I'd just watch a little tv.  Two hours later, I woke up?  Apparently, I missed the memo that the aforementioned nap was mandatory.  We made it to stop #3, the giant family dinner, with plenty of time to spare, but the coffee house wasn't happening.  Not even after drinking an entire little pitcher of coffee myself.  I didn't think the musical artists would appreciate the sight of a woman completely crashed out on one of the super plush chairs.

Fast forward to tonight.  My daughter and I spent the frigid afternoon together, running errands and having great time!  Came home and found that the men of the house had not only cooked dinner for the night, but also cleaned and folded laundry!  It was nothing short of wonderful.  Comfort food...fresh towels...perfectly swept floors.  I thanked them from the bottom of my heart and told them I couldn't wait to watch our movie rental, for which my daughter's friend would be joining us.  I went upstairs to exchange my clothes for pajamas.

(a la Spongebob)  Four hours later...

I woke up in total darkness.  Wait.  What time is it?  No wait.  What DAY is it?  Did I miss work?  Or is it morning.  Am I dreaming?  This is a dream.  Wait.  If it's morning, I need to get up and see what time of morning, because...no wait.  It's night.  I remember putting my pajamas on and someone covered me with a blanket.  It was my husband.  Don't we have a movie to watch?  I'm hungry.

Ohmygoshwhattimeisit...

I staggered to the top of the steps and asked the question.  My daughter joyfully greeted me with, "Oh hi, Mom!" and I was all, "WHAT TIME IS IT!!!"  My son told me it was 7pm and asked if I "had a good sleep".  I couldn't respond, because I was still slightly panicked.  I asked what time her friend was coming over and she said, "I told him you were taking a nap and I'd let him know when you woke up."

Annnnnd with that, I retreated to the shower.  To cry.

I don't want to be the reason my daughter has to message a friend to say, "sorry you can't come over, because the dogs will bark and wake my mother." - who may or may not be in a coma.  I don't want my son to worry about me.  Lately, that's manifesting in anxiety.  See, I work where he attends school.  He stops by my office a few times each day to ask how I'm doing, but always attaches a "can I have a piece of gum?" or "can I borrow a quarter?"  I used to think he checked in with me - for himself.  I'm finally figuring out (through a teary chat with God as shower water streamed over my head and down my face) that he checks in with me - for me.  Nothing costs a quarter anymore.  And I thought it strange when I saw him stuff the piece of gum in his pocket, because I chew the cubes, which aren't individually wrapped.  Wish I'd have recalled that detail prior to putting those clothes through the laundry.  And he feels like he has to remind me of something over and over, but I got it.  He wants me to rest more, but I got it.  He wants to try to do things for me, but I got it.  Yes, my "having it" may translate to occasional coma naps every now and again, but it's my version of a series of sprints.  And I got it.

Time to get out of the shower so the rest of the night can go on...

I emerged from my tearful conversations with God, having new insight into my son's anxiety, smelling quite fantastic (thanks, Bath & Body!), stared at the bags under my eyes, and yelled out for my daughter.  "Yes?" she asked.

"Don't ever.  Ever.  Let me get in the way of something.  Tell your friend to get over here.  Right now."

And son?  "Yes?" he asked.

"I had a great sleep.  Thanks for asking."


God has given me so much.  He provides for my every need.  And He has blessed my husband and I with incredible kids.  I pray they will have been made stronger from the rough times they had seen as small children, back when I was violently ill from meds, falling all over the place, asleep more than I was awake, and having pseudobulbar crying/laughing spells.  I pray they will never be afraid of the unknown, but entrust it all...in all it's crazy...to the Lord's hands.  Because really, He's the only One capable of holding it.

No, seriously, because I'm dropping things left and right.

(haha!)