Dead Meat Tired

About 20 years ago, my family of four at the time. took a vacation to the Wisconsin Dells, waterpark capitol of the Midwest.  Besides oodles of waterparks, there were water ski shows,  corny tourist attractions like wax museums, and fun houses, dude ranches for horseback riding, and of course the "Ducks" old military water and street vehicles that took tourists on tours of the area on land and then into the water to see the interesting rock formations.  We crammed a lot into a four day vacation followed by a long drive home.  I remember once we got the car unpacked and the kids back in the house, the dog retrieved from where he was staying, my son, about 5 or 6 at the time, threw his body onto the couch exclaiming, "I'm dead meat tired."  The expression has stuck.  DD#2 who wasn't born for another six years, uses the expression as well. 

Today, I am dead meat tired.  There has been no slow down at my office-I am still doing my job and filling the gap from turnover of a manager in my division.  Requests and needs are coming above and below my position, and outside the organization.  Still, it is November, the month we are to be thankful.  I am thankful I have a job, but am really trying to hold it together until this chaos passes.  

On top of the work life imbalance, I have been fielding daily calls, e-mails, and texts from both DS and DD#1 about their relocations.  DD#1 still is questioning her decision to move out west, and DS seems to have an almost fairy tale perspective of what his life will be after his move.  I miss that 6 year old boy that played so hard  on water slides and rafting boats, to the point he was just ready for a long nap in his own house.  Now he seems to want to burn candles at both end, without really have a clue where the wick will come from.

I feel like I am getting about as much sleep as I did when the kids were infants. I toss and turn at night, praying silently that they both will be fine, and things will work out for them. I remember the teacher at the classes leading up to delivery of the babies and the nurses in the maternity ward reminding me to sleep when the baby sleeps, to take care of myself.  I believe the last text is done for the night-no drama should be added.  I think I will listen to those nurses now and put myself to bed, sleeping while my "babies" appear to be at rest.  Tomorrow, the cycle will start again and I'll just be another pork chop on the barbecue grill of life.