Tired

Sometimes, as a parent, I get tired. I get tired of changing diapers. I tire of being screamed and whined at.  I tire of having to repeat myself. I tire of the meals I make being rejected. I tire of having to pack everything but the kitchen sink when we go somewhere. I tire of not knowing how long we can be out and about. I tire of being puked on. I tire of wiping noses. I tire of looking for bears and pacifiers. I get tired of doing so much laundry. I tire of having my hair pulled, my neck scratched, my finger bit and my gums poked. I tire of being tired.

To quote Pearl Bailey (isn't she fab?!), I am tired.

But, sometimes, I grow less tired. Receiving kisses, hearing "Mama!", watching Aggie soothe her sister, making the girls giggle, having my kisses soothe pains, being asked to dance, having my hair stroked, seeing Mimi's smile spread, hearing people marvel over them - those things energize, soothe the angry, resentful, tired beast in my chest.