Weary

I'm having one of those days when I feel like I've been hit by a truck.  I've been doing a pretty intense exercise program, and while I'm not particularly sore anymore, I just feel achy.  I need a masseuse and a chiropractor.  

And I couldn't sleep last night.  Partly because I'm going through an insomnia cycle, partly because I was achy and couldn't get comfortable, and partly because Zeke's feet or ass were in my face most of the night.

Speaking of, Jason and I have completely lost control of bedtime.  Zeke used to go to bed easily and cheerfully, right at around 8 or 8:30.  Then it started creeping up to 9.  Then 9:30.  Oh, and he didn't want to sleep in his bed anymore.  He wants to sleep with us.

And most of the time, I'm so worn out that I don't have the energy for a battle, so I let him.

But it has to stop.  Tonight's going to be ugly, I fear, because the little monkey is in for a rude awakening.  I firmly believe in the child-rearing lesson taught to me by Kathleen:  you don't have to pick every battle, but if you pick it, you have to win.  

Well, Zekey, my love, I'm picking the battle.  Sorry, honey.

I dread bedtime.

And I'm heavy-hearted because a dear, dear family friend, one of my grandparents' best friends and a woman who I have known and loved my whole life, is not well.  I fear another trip to Detroit for a funeral may soon be in the cards, and it tears me up to think about it.

On the other hand, today is my brother Joshua's birthday.  Happy birthday, big guy.  I love you.

And happy weekend, all.  Maybe I'll get some rest and feel better soon.