Tired

     My youngest is tired.  I think she has a cold, or maybe allergies.  She hasn't been sleeping well and this morning didn't come out of bed until after nine, her daddy tells me.  Maybe she's growing? I'm not sure what it is, maybe a little bit of all of it.  Whatever it is, she's tired and she's whiny. 

     My middle one is sore all over and has bug bites already that are swollen and hot.  Poor fairhaired girlie.  She's gone to bed with some medicine to help the aches, and a hug. Oh, and a Nancy Drew book.

     My oldest celebrated her bff's birthday yesterday and today and between the late night giggles, early morning wake up, and swimming, she's beat.  Her eyes could barely stay open at supper and her speech disentigrated from fast loud words to a low murmer that even I couldn't understand.  She's been sent to bed, and I do believe she'll be asleep shortly.

     Then there's me.  I made it through my 9 hours shift (less an hour for lunch) while babying my left foot.  While climbing over the dog gate on Thursday I kicked the back of the toilet lid in my living room. Yes, my living room.  You see, I'd moved it off the dogs blanket where Tim had left it after installing our new pretty white toilet and taking out the old ugly gray one.  I moved the lid so no one would get hurt and Callie, our puppy, would have more room on her blanket.  I have no idea why it was still in the living room.  But I moved it on top of the library book box.  Which is exactly where it was when I climbed over the dog gate and kicked it.  If my toe isn't broken then it's very prettily sprained.  I do like purple.  Just preferably on my toenails, not my toe itself! 

     My Saturdays at work are normally exhausting.  Saturdays at work once the cottagers come (duh duh dummmmmmm) are brutal.  The stress level is higher all around.  Oh joy. Oh bliss. Oh okay, so truly I have to work to have a good attitude at times.  And a few times today I did.  Within  minutes of arriving in fact and then several times through the day.  Which means by the time my shift is over I'm almost out of nice. 

     So I'm sitting here tonight wanting very much to have a conversation with my husband and he's off helping someone.  I love that about him, love that he is willing and able to help! LOVE that.  I just wish he'd hurry home.  He took our youngest with him and I hope she enjoys the privelege.  The other two are in bed! 

     I am not looking forward to this summer.  I know I can only control my attitude and I am working on it. You should HEAR what I haven't said!! Summer and I have a love/hate relationship. I adore the warmth, the growing of fruits and vegetables and flowers, but I loathe the exhaustion my husband experiences.  Hate the weeks of not seeing each other except to say goodnight, and sometimes even then it's iffy if he's awake.

     He's not home yet, but if I keep talking on here I'm afraid I'll be completely out of nice by the time he gets home. So I'm going to stop now.  It's enough to just say, "I'm tired." and know that so many of you know, on all levels, exactly what I mean.