I get to this point in the day, and I Am Done. Done. Shut Down. Wiped Out. Exhausted.
Since I became a mother, I’ve been accustomed to a definite Crash just before the children’s bedtimes. I am first aware of fatigue somewhere around 4 p.m.; it thickens around my head while I am preparing dinner; it hampers my mood during bathtime; and by the time I tuck them in (somewhere between eight and nine), I am ready for bed myself.
But a few minutes sitting quietly and I’m off again, perked up by a second wind that can keep me going for several more (sometimes too many more) hours.
This is No Longer True.
I’m working full-time these days, you know. It began back in late August and, although I’m definitely getting (finally) used to being away Almost All Day (we’re rarely home before four), the fatigue that hits is more entrenched than it used to be. It is intractable, heavy and determined.
Of course the shift– that of coming home after a day away– revives me somewhat. I change my clothes, we do some chores, I’m making dinner and washing out lunchboxes and running laundry through the machines and supervising homework and making sure the piano gets practiced. There isn’t time, really, to be tired.
But it hits– And How– after dinner. After dinner I am reading aloud or listening to Everett read and continuing with the Eternality of the laundry and finally– Finally– the children are all tucked in and I Am All Done. Shut Down. Wiped Out. Exhausted.
Call me crazy, but when that moment hits (and it does, every day, without fail), I Do Not Want To Do Anything. Okay, maybe I’ll write in my blog. Or check e-mail. Or fold (sigh) laundry. Or check (in vain) for a new post on someone else’s blog. Or (gasp) Watch Television (and I’ve watched A Lot of television in the last eight months because it’s just so Relaxing, and it makes Absolutely No Intellectual Demands. You know, back in 2003 I all but gave up watching television– even gave up watching movies with Bill– because the book that is (still) in my head was crying out Very Loudly– nay, Uncomfortably Loudly– to be written and I Absolutely Had To Attend To It and so I couldn’t Waste My Time on t.v.). Yes. I want to do Nothing that asks Anything At All of me, because I am Just So Darned Tired.
And so here I am, getting Nothing accomplished with the exception, of course, of writing here. And this, like it or not, is an accomplishment that is, decidedly, Negligible.
The washing machine has stopped downstairs. I should probably put the next load in. I have finished the ice cream. And look! There on the coffee table is the folder of essays my students wrote: waiting, just waiting for me to grade them. I brought them home with me last week. I brought them home with me last weekend. I brought them home yesterday; I will probably be bringing them home with me tomorrow.
And Look! Over there– just over there on the chair: the remote.
