Yesterday my two boys and I went to Cedar Point. Prior to meeting my husband I had only been to Cedar Point a handful of times, mostly, if not all, with my high school marching band. Brad really likes roller coasters, so I found myself in long line after long line, sometimes waiting for the chance to walk through the car and back down the steps, my feet hitting the ground without ever having ridden the ride. I know, I loved him that much, even from the beginning. But yesterday was not about freaking out in the line for a frighteningly tall roller coaster. Yesterday was about my family. And nothing, not one thing, went wrong. It was kind of surreal to be there for this totally different reason. We didn't ride one ride that Matthew couldn't go on, and it was a completely different experience.
It sounds cheesy, I know, but my heart was so full, watching Matthew Zhao light up as he rode the mustang cars, ("like Daddy's"), and the "monster trucks". These, in fact, were not monster trucks but were instead jeeps. Jeeps with a seat in the back where Daddy sat with his knees pulled up to his chin as his son drove around the track and laughed, so happy was he to be in that driver's seat. Man, I sure hope that picture comes out...
We laughed along with Matthew at his excitement over just about everything. We saw the shows and cheered for Snoopy and the guys doing bike tricks. We walked along the beach, with the sun going down and the breeze blowing and I swear I felt as though my heart would burst. Just burst. Is that possible? Pushing that stroller, watching my son play with sheepy, his stuffed sheep who travels this world along with us as a member of the family, holding my husband's hand - my world is perfect. Brad and I actually got lost because we were talking to each other about something other than work and Matthew. I looked up and we were in the parking lot instead of back inside the park. It was awesome.
We had so much fun that we didn't get to bed until 2 in the morning. Last week I spent three nights in hotel rooms, alone, which is pretty much the one place where I do not sleep well. On top of five straight very busy work days, lots of driving, and little sleep, yesterday, with all it's amazing warm and fuzzy moments, became the peak of my crash. Which explains why today I am barely functioning. Actually, I think it began before today but I have been able to keep it a well hidden secret for weeks now. Months, maybe. Oh my God, I am tired.
The list of things I don't care about today because I am so tired:
1. the fact that the toilet paper roll is wet from sitting on the sink instead of on the holder.
2. that there is a portable battery charger sitting on my kitchen table.
3. that Matthew may not have clean shorts to wear to school tomorrow.
4. that my planner doesn't have the August pages in it yet and I think the day marker is still somewhere around last Tuesday.
5. what is this red rash type thing on my lower leg that appeared last night?
6. that we have the zoo with college friends of Brad's and their families and two birthday parties, one out of town, to attend on the 14th.
7. my son is sleeping on his bedroom floor because he refused to get into bed at nap time so I left him there, on the floor.
8. the little voice in my head that gets all chatty every time I enter the living room and see the large mountain of toys erupting out of the toy box. I feel as though this mound is a living breathing beast that will one day suffocate me.
9. why did our adoption agency call me last week to ask a question about a form I submitted?
10. the alarming amount of lights burned out around here. Last count- at least nine.
11. Matthew has outgrown his tennis shoes, sandals, and his beloved bug shoes. Don't ask.
I could go on. And on. Did I mention how tired I am? The thought of waking Matthew up so we can go to the grocery store sends shivers down my spine. But I bargained with my equally tired husband- you play with him so I can pull the house together and plan for next week and I will take him with me to the store and to visit Grammy Trish. Actually, Matthew is pretty good at the store. It's the thought of having to get dressed and look alive after walking around the house like a zombie most of the day that truly sounds exhausting.
So yesterday was the first time in a long time that I got to hold a real conversation with my husband. I have wet toilet paper in the bathroom and a huge basket of dirty clothes. I have two nights of swim lessons this coming week and a craniofacial clinic appointment that will take at least 4 hours out of my Tuesday and will, if history is to be relied upon, reduce both me and my son to tears. And in the midst of this I have more adoption paperwork to pull together and get to the appropriate parties. I stood in the bathroom this morning trying to blow my nose and unrolling the toilet paper for what seemed liked forever before finding a dry piece while being amazed at the amount of flying water that can be generated when a three year old brushes his teeth and I thought, "wow, and we are going to have another one." This one better come with a white flag so that I can completely surrender.
Tomorrow I will care about all those things again. Tomorrow I will deal with the shoes and the paperwork and my planner and maybe even try to figure out what this thing is on my leg. I will probably even get around to replacing the wet toilet paper with a dry roll. For the rest of today, however, I will gain my strength from my little guy's giggles and hugs. I may even get in his kiddie pool with him later, after dinner. And I will sit there and play with his trucks in the water and think to myself how great this moment is, and how amazing it will be when there are two little ones in that water with me.