Why are you tired?

Today, after we asked the kids to rake the front yard, Zeca said, "I'm tired but I'll do it." I said, "I get it. I'm tired too." Then, she asked, "Well, why are you tired?"

I heard it as an accusation, a question with attitude that implied that I had no reason to be tired. It felt vulnerable because that is the message I tell myself on repeat, "You have no reason to be tired." We've had a lazy weekend with fewer soccer practices. We're not hosting Thanksgiving this year, which means that we haven't had to coordinate all that and deep clean the house. Things have been pretty calm at our house.

I must have visibly stiffened because she quickly said, "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I was just wondering why you were tired." She'd already told me she was tired because she hadn't slept well and because she was congested. She just wanted to know what was up with me.

I really thought about it. Why was I tired? I realized that I'm not physically tired - I've slept well enough the past couple of days - but then I thought about those leaves we'd asked them to rake, the hubcap we lost on one car and the check engine light on the other, the kitchen faucet we need to replace, and the shower head I want to replace. I thought about the grocery shopping, cooking, dishes, and laundry. I thought about the tiny things we have to do that go unnoticed - like wiping off the splatters from their smoothies and baking projects that have accumulated on the coffee pot, little splashes they don't see or pay attention to. And I thought about the work I need to do. All these things ran through my mind like a frantic slideshow.

She stood there waiting for an answer and I couldn't say all that, so, I said, "Sometimes, I'm just tired of all of my responsibilities." 

I love our life and I wouldn't trade it for the world but yeah, sometimes I'm just tired.