Exhausted but happy

Nobody told me that single parenthood would be like giving birth every.single.day. Living in our own place, doing all of this on my own, is exhausting. So exhausting.

Yet I love it.

I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't say this enough--I will always be incredibly grateful for the sacrifices my parents made and all the help they gave us; it's a debt I can't repay. (You know, until they're old and feeble and need me back.) But being on our own like this, it's how things should be. I love coming home to our own place, paying our own bills (yeah, I'll get over this one fast), eating leftover pizza in the living room for breakfast if we feel like it.

For some reason I thought that once we moved I'd have all this time on my hands. I'm sure Fate threw back her head and laughed every time I thought that. Maybe it's the adjustment period, but I swear it feels like I just had a baby--you know, that deer-in-the-headlights, I-don't-know-what-in-the-hell-I'm-doing-but-I'm-DOING-it feeling. Wondering if I'll ever have 8 hours of sleep again. Trying to figure out if that smell in the kitchen is the coming from the fridge, the garbage, or the laundry. Keeping my exhausted eyes open long enough at night to try clean up dinner, prep breakfast and my lunch, laundry, dishes, get tomorrow's dinner ready for the crock pot, set out clothes, shower, exercise, sweep, vacuum, get my child to bed, get my child to STAY in bed, yoga/pray/read/meditate, get myself to bed--and doing it all over again the next day. (And if you *really* think I do all of those things every.single.night...have we actually met?) Like, seriously, I'm exhausted just reading that.

R still isn't quite used to having his own bedroom, and almost every morning I find him and his pillow pet on my bedroom floor. I'm not used to all this either, and my gotta-check-the-locks OCDness is out in full force.

Plus moving brings the opportunity for new friends. (Yay!) And somehow it brings old friends (and old flames, and old would-be flames) out of the woodworks. Who knew? If Emotional Gymnastics were an Olympic sport, I'd win a gold freakin medal.

But, hey, I'm doing this. And loving it! I'm finding out that no matter how strong I think I am, I can always be stronger. I might despair sometimes, I might whine, but when something has to be done, I do it. So all of these things that have to be done (by ME, because there is no one else to do them) now that we're on our own, I do it. It's exhausting. But I love it. I love this new life we're making for our little family. The kisses and hugs I get at the beginning and end of every day make it all worth it. His smile, his kindess his goodness; I'd do anything for my little boy.

And right now that means being exhausted every day as I adjust to our new life. And I'm okay with that.