Beyond exhausted

I don't know how people do it. I just can't keep up anymore. My kids aren't babies, they sleep through the night and can feed themselves, for the most part are potty trained, they talk, walk and will play in the backyard when the weather is nice. So they don't need a lot of my undivided attention, like a new baby would. Oh, I know they need my attention as their mom, but that's not really what I mean. I don't have to be standing in the same room with them watching their every move. If I need to go to the bathroom, they are ok for two minutes. They mostly get along with each other and overall are well behaved, curious little creatures that light up my life. But I am so tired.

Not the kind of tired you experience as a new mom. Maybe there is some sense of newness and excitement that comes with a newborn. I mean the kind of tired that makes it agony to get out of bed and the kind of tired that makes one think caffeine should come in an IV drip. Everything I do is exhausting. I would nap if I could. I would take a vacation to an exotic island and sleep on the beach. But I can't, because just thinking about how I would get there makes me tired.

I love my job. It's my dream job, one I worked hard for. I want to keep it. I sometimes will stay an hour or so past quitting time, and I'm on call every third week. But I don't work eighty hour weeks or go without any sleep. So why am I so tired? My life isn't drastically different than it was a year ago. In fact, my kids are a little older, my job is a little bit easier and I have a little more time. But I have a lot less energy. I creak and ache like an old lady. It's ironic that I am often told I would feel better if I would exercise more, but you have to be not tired to even start the exercise. What a dilemma. Maybe it's my thyroid or my blood or a tumor growing somewhere un-noticed. I feel like I should be expecting my own version of dead-Denny to come and "be here for me".

There is a special place in heaven for single moms. I don't know how they do it. And for my husband, since he picks up all my slack and lets me sleep late on Saturday mornings. Maybe I'll call a doctor. This can't be normal.

Nighty-night!