The second day is always harder than the first. There's less adrenaline and more reality on the second day.
And we are already showing signs of exhaustion. (Incidentally, I rewatched that morning video I made yesterday and was astounded by the puffy bags under my eyes. Looks like I haven't slept well in days.)
Last night at the end of dinner, Ethan put his head in my lap and told me he was ready for bed. I could have eaten him for dessert. It had been a long, full day. His first day of the full schoolday, and he was done by seven. He told me that he had yawned most of the day. (Especially during the rules, he said.) I tucked him in and then went in the girls room to read.
Last night it was The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes. A lovely little book you ought to read to your girls every year before school. Before I got to the last chapter the girls were asleep beside me. I finished it anyway because it is that good, reading aloud to myself and crying at the end.
Caleb went to scouts but came home when the obligatory after-scouts basketball game started. Ready for bed, he said.
With everyone tucked away, David and I sat in bed and talked about the day and the year and David's new intern and the little signs of puberty starting to show around our house. David rubbed my shoulders, which were already tied up in their pre-summer position, and we talked about how fast life was going.
And then the power went out too. Exhausted after such a day, I imagined. As worn out as the rest of us.
And it stayed off almost twelve hours. The kids had cold cereal this morning with slightly warm milk, hair was tied up without curls, and Savannah finished The Hundred Dresses by lantern.
After the kids left I could think of nothing to do without power and so I went back to bed and napped until I heard the air click back on and the dishwasher start chugging again.
And perhaps most amazing of all, we had rain this morning. The sky covered in clouds and a slight dripping everywhere. Like even the sun was tired and maybe even the heavens are adjusting.
Hedonism has a price.