Exhausted. And happy.

The weekend is coming to a close and I'm sitting here feeling so exhausted that I'm actually looking forward to the arrival of Monday morning. What's funny is that the weekend wasn't terribly out of the ordinary, just a little more energy-sapping than usual.

After a conversation I had with my sister on Friday morning, when she told me about her Friday night date plans, I made a (not so) subtle comment to Marc about how we don't ever go out. But, then, right away I knew why. To do something other than catch a movie at the theater around here requires a lot of creativity. And, the theater's prices are hiking up so high that there is rarely a movie worth the hike.

Plus, if I'm completely honest, by the end of a long day (and week) just about the last thing I want to do is get dressed up and go out. By 7pm, when the boys are snuggled in their cribs, I'm content to snuggle up in my PJs on the couch. And, I'm pretty sure Marc falls in the same personality category when it comes to that.

So, we compromised. We put all electronics away at 7pm, picked out a movie we hadn't seen in a while (Catch Me if You Can), snuggled up on the same couch in our PJs, and we even held hands. And, you know what? It actually felt like a date... only much more comfortable than being in a theater.

Saturday morning I woke up feeling surprisingly motivated to tackle my growing list of things I've been procrastinating. One of those was to re-organize Marc's office. When we first moved here (TEN months ago!), we sort of just piled boxes and bins in the office closet with the intent to come back to it after a couple of weeks. Well, that clearly didn't happen as planned. So, we pulled almost everything out, consolidated and organized everything. It was amazing how much more space we had by the end. The boys had a blast getting into things, dancing to Abba, and trading off wearing Marc's sunglasses and bike helmet. They actually cried when we were done.

But, little did they know the fun was just beginning. In our organizing I found that darn box of old receipts and bills that has needed to be shred for years. Shredding is so obnoxious, but it's at least somewhat entertaining for little boys. So, we sat on the floor and started to tackle that very large box. I soon discovered bills and receipts going all the way back to 2003. It was quite the little walk down memory lane.

When I came across the pile from the summer of 2008, I was unable to go through those bills from UCSF without feeling some of the painful memories that left me so heartbroken I wondered how I'd ever recover. Just when I was in the middle of walking down that particularly painful lane, I kept getting pulled back to my current reality with the boys giggling at the shredder or trying to tackle each other. And, there was something so overwhelming by the striking contrast in those two realities - one of wounds that still sting a bit when they're uncovered and one of the miraculous healing that has since changed my life completely. I never would have imagined I'd ever feel such intense joy as I do now.

Later that night my Mom and I spent the evening together at our local county's pageant competition. There wasn't really anything too terribly exciting about the pageant, but it was so much fun to have a night out like that with my Mom.

So, that brings us to my exhausting Sunday. I was sitting here with heavy eye lids (at 8pm) and feeling like an old lady for wanting to crawl into bed at such an early hour. But, when your husband has church-related meetings that start at 6:30am, Sundays are the least relaxing day of the week. Not only that, but finding a way to get myself and my two boys all fed and dressed and ready to go by 8:45am when Marc comes back to pick us up for 9am church. That might not sound like a big deal, unless you knew how long it takes me on a normal morning to accomplish the same tasks.

Then, that's just the beginning of the fun. The first hour is spent entertaining/wrestling the boys, keeping them from hurting each other, keeping them quiet and from running around, and (the latest) keeping them from throwing things like hot wheels and sippy cups at unsuspecting church-goers three pews back. Luckily, since Marc isn't able to sit with us, I do usually have my parents' help, which makes a big difference!

For the second two hours I should have a bit of a break, since the boys are old enough to attend the Nursery class. Except that the last couple of weeks have caused Hugh such traumatizing separation anxiety, that I've been spending those last two hours of church entertaining/wrestling my same two boys, along with five others (typically with the help of one other adult). I'm just hoping Hugh settles and gets comfortable in there soon without me, because it really does make for a much more exhausting Sunday.

And, that's it. That's why I'm so tired at 8pm on a Sunday night. But, as I was reminded by my shredding-inspired little walk down memory lane, I have to acknowledge the incredible joy and miracles of my life that are the reasons behind this utter exhaustion. I'll take the heavy eye lids and the old lady bedtime any day of the week for these little stinkers that bring me so much joy. And healing.