I don’t bounce back from long nights of consoling a sick preschooler. I guess I never found it easy, let’s face it, but it sure is a lot harder at 60 than it was at 30.
When my kids were little, I often was up at night tending them through the flu, colds and other childhood diseases. And then I would go to work the next day and survive. Now, I don’t have to get myself off to work in the mornings, and I am still dragging my butt around.
Menopause is a factor. I have many nights of interrupted sleep these days, due to night sweats and creepy-crawly arms and legs. So I guess when I have care-giving to do throughout the night, I am already in the red, so to speak. I am working on a deficit, REM cycle wise.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I am not the dynamo I was 30 years ago.
But I manage. What choice do I have, really?
It’s nearly 9:00. Past my bedtime. Good night!