Damn, I’m tired. I’m talking physically and emotionally. Drained. I woke up earlier than usual yesterday. I was supposed to work a half day, but decided too much needed to be done; it’d be too much of an added, unnecessary burden. I wonder if she’s tired too. She must be tired.
We were going nonstop yesterday, washing last minute clothes, checking for paperwork and medicines, making sure bags weren’t too heavy. I was giving last minute pedicures and polishing toes and finding forgotten about sunglasses and small wristlets to fit into separate small purses because don’t keep all your money in one place.
Today I’m feeling the effects of anxiousness, of a few hours of sleep, of a small boy tapping my forehead to wake me up a full hour before the alarm was set to go off, asking how long his sister would be away. I’d gone to bed early, then woke up in the middle of the night. Twice. After he woke me up, I stayed up. I’m barely vertical.
You want better for your kids and loved ones. You want them to have experiences you didn’t have, or haven’t had. You want them to be aware of other religions and beliefs and traditions and dress and languages and other stuff I’m too tired to think of.
My 16-year-old flew to South Africa yesterday, the 9th, until the 21st, and it’s fine, really. Johannesburg is only an 18-hour flight and 8, 132 miles away.