Exhaustion fluttered into the window, as small pockets of afternoon light leaked into our 1880 Victorian home. We snuggled as a family on the couch in the living room, each of us fitting into each other like puzzle nuzzle pieces. The silence of Saturday serenaded us with peace and calm. Our heads drifted back in relaxing curls against the couch. Together we napped. This was well needed rest.
I asked my mother just yesterday, shouting for her to hear me over the phone, “Were you and Dad always exhausted when we were young children?”
“Yes, of course,” she said as if it were well-known knowledge.
Parenthood leaves me exhausted each night, desperately trying to gain the strength to write each night. Instead, I veg out to a TV show I can watch online. Family obligations, cleaning, re-cleaning dressing toddlers, changing diapers, making meals, doing dishes, cleaning floors, vacuuming, checking in and tagging in and out with my husband leave us both depleted. At the end of each task, I feel there will be some sort of feeling of it all being done, but it starts all over again, as if a train on a schedule. “All aboard,” the train of responsibility chugs along the track of parenthood.
I guess it is just the story-line for this chapter in our lives.
Ben snuggled deep into the white comforter cocooning into our bodies like jello, soft and malleable. Finally comfortable and not irritable, he drifted off to sleep. My husband and I both off to sleep just minutes after him. This cocoon was just what we needed.
Naps — they are the new nightclub — just as exciting and just as cool.
“There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled.” -Ovid