Am I Tired????

People often ask me if I am tired. Because apparently I look tired. What a lovely thought.

This always causes me to pause, this question of "Are you tired?"

As if I need to say "Am I a mom?"

I mean, if you are a mom isn't part of your job requirement to be able to take nap at any moment to try to regain the years of sleep you have missed out on?

Am I tired.....sheesh.

I mean, why should I be?

My alarm goes off at five. If I am unimaginably lucky, it is just hubs and I in bed. But usually it is me and hubs and one other boy. Sometimes two other boys.

There is a dog panting in my face, waiting for me to show signs of life. She does not know the meaning of minty fresh.

There is another dog in the kennel, whining and crying and reminding me she is there.

I let them out and they immediately begin to bark to the heavens, announcing to all the invisible critters that were considering attacking us all that they have, in fact, returned to the outdoors and are keeping their eye on all the totally invisible and silent ruthless critters out there.

It's then I crawl back into my warm bed. I know, I need to start coffee (wouldn't a coffee delivery just be...wonderful? Like, with an IV so you wouldn't even have to drink it! You would get the wonderful aroma and taste in an IV so you would bounce awake, one cup of coffee already running through your veins) and get started on the day. But it's winter. And bed is warm.

Soon I'm calling sleepy boys to wake up. Then the fun really begins. There is the panic I may forget to feed them (this has never ever ever ever ever ever happened. But they are gripped with fear they may miss a meal.) Then it's the whole "What will I wear?" and even if I have been on top of the game to lay their clothes out, they will forget, they may cry over their favorite shirt MIA or pull out their most favoritest clothes they must wear...you know, the ones with the holes in knees, three inches too short and the completely stained shirt.

(note to self: do not wash these clothes this time. THIS time, Throw. Them. Away. For. Good.)

I cannot imagine how girls are in the morning.

And then the bickering begins. The "I wanted that cereal and he ate it all" and "Don't take my hat" and so on and so forth.

The dog sees the cat and the inside barking begins.

A game of football starts up in the living room while I am in the shower.

We have ten minutes before we have to leave. The only boys dressed are the ones who slept in their clothes.

Down as much coffee as I can in one sip.

Warn everyone we MUST LEAVE NOW!!!! I point to the tv. "When Jon Shaner does the next weather segment, we are OFFICIALLY late!!!"

S3 looses his coat. Or lunch. Or shoes. Or snow pants. Or boots. Or back pack. Or all that. Every. Day. Even though last night it was all laid out for him.

Jon Shaner begins the weather on Fox 17.

We are officially late.

I am screaming now. Because I am such a great mom.

I'm the last person out the door, even though I was the first one ready. S2 has taken over the radio. We are blaring.

Blaring.

I didn't drink enough coffee for blaring.

We arrive to school where I am already giving out game plans to get in the doors before they lock. "Okay, we are in the parking lot. Unbuckle. No! Don't climb over the seats yet! I am still driving! No, we cannot finish listening to this song. We are LATE, remember? Okay, go! go! go! go!"

The doors open and literally we all fall out of the suburban. It takes six tries to get all doors shut (there are only five of us. We only have four doors.)

We shuffle run into school. We shuffle run because it's not a good example to run into school. It also hazardous as it is winter. And icy.

On a good day, we make it in before the doors close and lock. On a regular day, we walk through the office, waving hellos as we do. And then I usually have to notice someones cool jewelry or shirt or hair style and comment on it.

Because I am the only girl in a house of boys.

We speed walk to classes.

I break a sweat.

We wave hello's to other parents and get asked by boys when they can come over to our house and remind S3 that he HAS a lunch he does not need to BUY a lunch.

Someone always always always always laughs at us. Every day. Always.

I leave when they all know what we are having for dinner. I am usually planning dinner in my head as we walk in the door. Because saying "I'm not sure what's for dinner" makes them panic that they may starve.

We have never ever not eaten dinner.

That is just the morning.

In the afternoon there is mountains and mountains of laundry. There is dinner to make. And snacks. Because what if they were to starve (they never have)?

I scroll facebook and twitter on my phone when I realize I have begun talking to the dogs as though they are children.

Just when I am so tired I cannot keep my eyes open, the boys arrive home from school.

They are starving.

Every thing I have cleaned all day long is now muddy, covered in something or spilled.

As I am finishing up dinner prep, they have homework questions.

We do reading and papers and S4 asks me a hundred times "what's a number between 2 and 21" from his Vtech computer.

I oversee lunch making while babysitting a Pillow Pet I am sworn to protect with a long list of rules. Daddy tries to kidnap said Pillow Pet. Screaming ensues. Tickling usually follows. It's a tough job.

Boys go to bed. Hubby mentions he hasn't seen me, how about I watch American Pickers with him?

If it's a good night, I do not fall asleep on the couch.

But that also means that when the show is over, I am in the kitchen washing dishes.

When I fall into bed, I do not toss or turn. Not once. I am instantly asleep.

And start all over again the next day, maybe with work at the library thrown in too.

Work I love.

Life I love.

Because this insane life that is frantic running all day long?

I love it.

I am so very very blessed.

But totally wonder how anyone dares to ask me if I am tired. Or assumes I read books constantly. Or can take a nap every day. Or get bored.

I laugh at that.

I am too blessed to be bored. And too busy to sleep.

So, yes, I am tired every single day.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.