Tired.

Today I am tired, bone tired. Bone tired, thirsty and sore all over. It’s early. It’s early once again, for the third time this week. Thank God the coffee machine didn’t wake Taylor up– she’s … awake! And, of course, whining for momma and asking for breakfast. Whoever said that foolish consistency was the hobgoblin of simple minds? The combinations of these late nights, early mornings, and our new exercise program are, sadly, beginning to take their toll on my mind and especially my body.

I would like to think that I’m not a hobgoblin or simple minded. I stay up a little later than the kids so that I can read a book of my choice– one of my few respites I refuse to relinquish for a few more minutes of sleep. I exercise because I want to remain healthy throughout my children’s youth and to set a good example for them to follow as they grow up and into childhood sports. Wouldn’t it be amazing if one or both of my kids wanted to walk the entire length of the Long Trail, the Appalachian Trail, or along side Hadrian’s Wall with us before heading off to college? I wake up early because the kids are not ready to wake by themselves, fix their breakfast, or be alone for an hour or two just yet– despite the latest article I read in Parenting Magazine which made the claims that a two-year-old could fend for him or herself for an hour alone while the parent(s) slept in. Rather, I’m doing– just as Adrianne is doing– whatever we need to do to provide the best we can for our children. This last month, more than any other time in recent memory, has produced wave after wave after wave of setbacks: new bills, more bills, less anticipated money coming in, and a disappointing tax return. We can’t go on living check to check– it’s just not working anymore. And then again, our bodies can only take so much. Working longer and harder will not starve off the situation we are in, despite our best intentions and willingness to make additional sacrifices to earn an extra buck.

There is a silver lining. There is always a silver lining glimmering off in the distance– visible and alluring. Our lining is made up of faith: a faith that God is looking over us; a faith that we’ll be all right; a faith that somehow someway we’ll not only make it through these difficult times but that we’ll have increase. I believe we will. We have to. We just have to.

As I sit typing these words on my laptop at the kitchen table in the early morning hours drinking my second cup of coffee, wrapped in the warmth of our house, and occasionally glancing out at the birds fighting through the frigid 30 mph winds, dodging blankets of blowing snow on the other side of window to my left to peck through the frozen cages of our birdfeeders, listening to Simon’s baby monitor sound the soothing “hush, hush, hush” and watching Taylor pretend to feed a stuffed dog with one of her baby’s bottles for breakfast, I know we are blessed. God is with us. God is watching out for us. God is by our side. But I also know we need to do more. Just because He can doesn’t mean he will.

On that note, my boy’s awake! I need to fix him some food, exercise, shovel the night’s snow out the driveway, read a bundle of Dr. Seuss books, and sooner or later take the kids outside to play with their snowmen, to the store to walk around a bit to stretch their legs, or visit one of our relatives … all before noon. It never stops. Don’t ever stop.

PS: The answer to the foolish consistency question, as we all slap our heads in doleful remembrance to our 11th grade American Literature class, is Emerson.