Too Pooped To Pop
Do you ever get that kind of tired where you feel all whiney and you can’t stop telling people how tired you are? But you’re not tired, really, you’re just whiney?
My family hates it when this mood comes to call, which it occasionally does, although, of course, normally you would describe me as effervescent and sparkly as a bottle of Martinelli’s fake champagne.
When this happens, a pair of torn green sweat pants sneak out of the closet and jump me along with this really comfortable men’s T-shirt that makes me look like a bag full of balloons. The fridge door opens with a rush of cool air and, surprise, out pops the ice cream! How delightful.
Why does this happen to me? Why does it happen to anybody?
My first theory is that it comes from never saying no and never giving yourself time to be alone, a warning to those of us who have a pretty steady supply of family around the old kitchen table.
Suddenly, it becomes alluring to stay up until two in the morning watching movies, reading trashy novels. Sometimes it feels good to sleep on the couch just so my body is not touching any other bodies. Even the body I love the most.
For example, when my adorable two-year-old granddaughter spends the day with me, on balance, it thrills me to my socks. But on those days when she doesn’t take a nap, and you know how iffy a two-year-old can be about a nap, and we have talked continually about whether or not she’s “gone,” and sung “now I know my ABC’s” about twenty times, and kissed boo-boo’s and talked about her stuffed dog Murphy who sometimes forgets to come to Grandma’s and stays at home taking a nap, needing to be alone becomes an obsession.
So out comes the “I’m tired” defense, because, really, who can argue? Tiredness implies a state you’ve earned through hard work and responsibility, and hopefully, someone will believe because you’re tired, you can do anything you want because you deserve it.
Which brings us to the other thing that makes me whiney: not having any fun.
Once in a while, being responsible looks attractive to me for a couple of days. There’s a new regime: the dishes get done, the checkbook is balanced. Forty-five minutes on the treadmill, check; yard all weeded, check; laundry done, check. For those of you who work, crock-pot full before you leave, check. For guys: oil changed, honey-do list finished, check, check. After a couple days of this, if not sooner, exhaustion sets in, not to mention a fervent hatred of my life.
That’s usually the time to remember why things don’t ever get done: there are so many more fun things to do than work! Duh! Lunch with girlfriends, shopping at the mall, afternoon movies, baking cookies, long drives to nowhere. Paying attention to my granddaughter instead of just enduring to the end.
Have you ever felt whiney when you were having a good time? Really a good time, not those pretend good times when you do something healthy and tell yourself it’s fun. Spending time alone is a responsibility. Saying no is a responsibility. Having a good time is a responsibility. Doing these things keeps you from being whiney.
And I say this with all the love in my heart, nobody wants to hear it when you’re whiney.
My family hates it when this mood comes to call, which it occasionally does, although, of course, normally you would describe me as effervescent and sparkly as a bottle of Martinelli’s fake champagne.
When this happens, a pair of torn green sweat pants sneak out of the closet and jump me along with this really comfortable men’s T-shirt that makes me look like a bag full of balloons. The fridge door opens with a rush of cool air and, surprise, out pops the ice cream! How delightful.
Why does this happen to me? Why does it happen to anybody?
My first theory is that it comes from never saying no and never giving yourself time to be alone, a warning to those of us who have a pretty steady supply of family around the old kitchen table.
Suddenly, it becomes alluring to stay up until two in the morning watching movies, reading trashy novels. Sometimes it feels good to sleep on the couch just so my body is not touching any other bodies. Even the body I love the most.
For example, when my adorable two-year-old granddaughter spends the day with me, on balance, it thrills me to my socks. But on those days when she doesn’t take a nap, and you know how iffy a two-year-old can be about a nap, and we have talked continually about whether or not she’s “gone,” and sung “now I know my ABC’s” about twenty times, and kissed boo-boo’s and talked about her stuffed dog Murphy who sometimes forgets to come to Grandma’s and stays at home taking a nap, needing to be alone becomes an obsession.
So out comes the “I’m tired” defense, because, really, who can argue? Tiredness implies a state you’ve earned through hard work and responsibility, and hopefully, someone will believe because you’re tired, you can do anything you want because you deserve it.
Which brings us to the other thing that makes me whiney: not having any fun.
Once in a while, being responsible looks attractive to me for a couple of days. There’s a new regime: the dishes get done, the checkbook is balanced. Forty-five minutes on the treadmill, check; yard all weeded, check; laundry done, check. For those of you who work, crock-pot full before you leave, check. For guys: oil changed, honey-do list finished, check, check. After a couple days of this, if not sooner, exhaustion sets in, not to mention a fervent hatred of my life.
That’s usually the time to remember why things don’t ever get done: there are so many more fun things to do than work! Duh! Lunch with girlfriends, shopping at the mall, afternoon movies, baking cookies, long drives to nowhere. Paying attention to my granddaughter instead of just enduring to the end.
Have you ever felt whiney when you were having a good time? Really a good time, not those pretend good times when you do something healthy and tell yourself it’s fun. Spending time alone is a responsibility. Saying no is a responsibility. Having a good time is a responsibility. Doing these things keeps you from being whiney.
And I say this with all the love in my heart, nobody wants to hear it when you’re whiney.
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