Exhaustion Speaking, How May I Help You?

Things have been pretty hectic around here for all of us.  Heather got a fulltime job, and that’s exciting, but it affects everybody in the house.  Kids have to be ready to go places quicker, I have to make more meals, and laundry falls behind.  Lance started school this year and is going to half-day pre-school.  I picked up a new, harder class (advanced English) and had another hour of teaching tacked on to my day when we split the 7^th and 8^th grades due to greater numbers.  The other kids moved up a grade, and both Lacey and Lane have more homework.

Busy, busy, busy.

With all this extra stuff to do, something has to give.  And what gives?  Sleep, primarily.

I wish I could say that was a joke, but it’s not.  It has only been this past week that I feel we have gotten kids to bed remotely on time.  It was also this week that I was going to sleep before eleven.  I am getting up fifteen minutes earlier than last year at 5:45, and I wake the kids before 6:30.

Results? We’re all tired.  Tired?  Say rather, exhausted.

Lance takes daily naps on the living room rug.  I have come home on multiple occasions to find him passed out on the floor just inside the door, or on the rug by the couch – not on the couch, but by it.  Heather sends me pictures periodically of Lance asleep at the church on a bed he made up somewhere on the floor while she worked.

One afternoon, Heather and I chatted in the kitchen as we prepared dinner.  Lance was asleep in the living room.  Suddenly I see the top of his head bob into sight over the counter by the door.  I smile at him, and Heather turns to greet him.  He doesn’t answer either of us.  One hand rubs a sleep bleared eye, and he hoarsely grumbles something.  Then he turns and blunders against one of the kitchen table chairs.  He doesn’t speak.  I don’t think he even opened his eyes, though I can’t be certain because his back was to us.  He took a stance I’ve seen boys take a time or two in my experience with little nephews, and my eyes widen.

“Heather, I think he’s-” I began, but she realized at the same time as I did what he was doing.

“No, Lance, no!  That’s not…that’s not a toilet…”  She took him by the shoulders and guided him rapidly into the bathroom.  Said bathroom is right between the kitchen and the living room.  Poor kid had missed his turn.

She came back, rolling her eyes in disbelief, but we both laughed as she went for disinfectant and paper towels to clean up his pee.

Exhaustion leads to half waking trips to the bathroom at night, but I don’t know if the kids are even half awake as they go.  One night as I made a visit to the loo in the tiny hours of the morning, I flicked on the light to find the water running in the sink where a hand towel and a roll of paper towels bathed, soaking it up.  I blinked once or twice, and with barely a flicker of response in my sleep sodden brain, I turned off the tap and removed the soaking items.  A moment I held the paper towels in my hand.  I didn’t know what to do with them.  The trashcan was right there, but I don’t think I perceived it.  I think somewhere in my head was the idea of some remote possibility of the towels drying out.  I set it on the counter.

By the end of the next day, they had been thrown away, presumably by Heather.

When you’re as tired as we are, oversleeping is always a danger.  Alarms are a must.  It’s somewhat disastrous when something fouls them up.

I woke last Friday feeling uncommonly refreshed.  For once I was not in dread of the day.  But then my eyes opened, and I saw daylight behind my curtains.  Guessing at the truth, I reached for my phone.

I told you above that I wake at 5:45.  When I do, I work hard to get lunch, make coffee, prepare breakfasts (I say ‘breakfasts’ because due to our different dietary restrictions, we have to make two breakfasts each morning – one for the kids and one for Heather and I) and put stuff out for kids’ lunches.  If all goes well, I am mounting my bike around 6:50.

This Friday morning, as I say, there is already daylight outside the window, and I am feeling refreshed.  I reached for my phone.

6:54.

I sat up and texted Heather to discover her whereabouts and state of wakefulness.  Turns out, she had left early to get some work done at the church before coming home to get kids to school.  She was just walking in through the front door.  I tumbled out of bed.  Riding my bike was out of the question, clearly.  I dressed (thank the Lord for jean day!) and ran downstairs.  No breakfast was on, no kids were awake.

Heather and I scrambled to get things ready for school.  We fed the kids, and by the time my absolutely-had-to-leave time rolled around, wonder of wonders, Leanne was ready to walk out with me.

“We have to hurry,” I said as we walked out the door.  “Buckle up quick, now.”  I waited with limited patience as Leanne buckled up.  It’s the one drawback of taking kids with you.  It takes them a good five seconds longer than you to put their buckles on.  We pulled out.  I forced myself to drive slowly.  I always take more care with the kids in the car.

As we came to Walmart, I pulled into the parking lot.

“What are we doing?” Leanne cried.  “I thought we were going to be late!”

“Well, we might be able to make it on time still,” I said, “but I have to get something for my coffee.”

“What!” she exclaimed incredulously.

“I have to get some almond milk to put into my coffee!”

“No, you don’t!” she said with the sort of tone a mother uses when a kid says she ‘must’ have something.

“Yes, I do!” I replied.  Clearly this child didn’t know what coffee meant to a tired person.

“But you’ll be late!  You said we have to hurry!”

“I-I might be late,” I admitted.

“Ellie!  Are you taking a risk?”

“Yes, I guess you might say that. Get out of the car, quick!”

“Ellie!” she cried, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the back door.  “Are you making a good decision?”

I couldn’t believe the child!  Was she giving me a talking to?  “Leanne,” I replied, laughing half shamefacedly, “sometimes adults do things they don’t advise kids to do.”

“Ellie!” she said again, marching fast to keep pace with my long strides.  “Are you making good choices?”

It was almost enough to make me turn around and get back in the car right then and there.

“Here’s the thing,” I said as the doors slid open for us.  “If we hurry, I might not be late at all, and then the risk will be worth it.”

“But what if you are late?”

“Well. Too bad for me.  But at least I’ll have my coffee.”

I was two minutes late.

But I had my coffee.

And sometimes, when exhaustion is the word of the day, coffee is what you need.