Sure, as a kid I’d get tired. Running the neighborhoods on Halloween. Back to back soccer games on a Saturday. Studying for multiple exams while finishing a paper and working those weekend babysitting jobs. Kids have boundless energy but they’re not immortal – even the under eighteen crowd gets a bit pooped now and then.
There’s no doubt I was tired as an adult. Working fifteen hour days as a brand new teacher. Getting married and moving across the country to a strange city. Juggling home and work and life with a dog or two thrown in for good measure? Sure sounds like a recipe for exhaustion to me.
But I can say with 100% certainty that I didn’t hit Bone Effing Tired until parenting entered our lives.
It’s a tired that goes beyond “fixable by a good afternoon nap”. Granted, it’s been a long slow burn over fourteen years or so but this particular tired has hit critical mass. This one is more like “might could maybe be possibly improved by a two year coma-like rest but don’t kid yourself, you’ll still feel like the walking dead when you stumble out of your cave”.
Bone Effing Tired, man.