This picture was taken exactly one week ago.  Last day of school.  We were all bursting with enthusiasm and expectations for a summer filled with excitement!  Adventure!  General merriment and awesomeness for now and evermore.  Or.  At least, until school was back in session.

Flash forward to two nights ago when I excused myself from the dinner table at 7pm.  To go to bed.  AT SEVEN PM.  Because I was convinced I was dying.  I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  My body hurt.  My ears were ringing.  I felt like I had been hit by a mack truck.  And Matt’s only response was, “Uh, kids.  What did you DO to my wife today?”

I woke up the following morning feeling like a new human and mentioned to Matt that I identified with those celebs who wind up “hospitalized for exhaustion.”  He looked at me skeptically and was all, “So. You’re calling yourself a movie star?”

NO, husband-of-mine.  I’m calling myself exhausted.  As in the hospitalized-celebrity brand of exhaustion.

And, looking back on our past week, I just can’t even figure out why.

These little people of mine?  They can’t stop, won’t stop.  They’re MACHINES, y’all.  And maybe they will land me in the hospital after all.  (But hospitals have WiFi, right?  And cable?  And food served to me on little trays?  I MEAN…)

So, to all the parents of children on the first days of summer break, I stand in solidarity with you.  Dear mom hiding behind her sunglasses as she dozes off while “watching her kids” at the park, I salute you.  To those who substitute chlorine for shampoo and lemonade for servings of fruit, keep on keepin’ on.

We can do this.  And when we can’t, there’s always Netflix.

Or 7pm bedtimes.