Zach stood up and slowly stretched. “When does Ben feed next?”
“In one hour. Do you want to shower before you get him?”
He replied, “If you’re not going to shower, sure.”
“Go ahead,” I stated, “I still need to empty the dishwasher and I’ll shower after you.”
Zach headed upstairs while I unloaded the dishes. It is Friday night. We are totally wiped from the week, and have zero energy to do anything interesting.
The past few evenings have been a little rough. Luke has been up at least 50 times each night, and Ben has been up for his usual nightly feeding. I’m not sure which is worse. Repeatedly walking Luke back to his bed is draining, but so far tonight he hasn’t poked his little head out of his room yet. As parents, we covet our nighttime respite from the boys. Not getting a proper break is disappointing at best, turning us into regular little zombies.
At any rate, it is a sign of utter exhaustion when Zach and I are no longer able to joke around with each other and come up with witty retorts. I hear the shower water running. I suppose I should get back to the dishes. He’ll be down soon – maybe we’ll high-five as he takes the next “little boy emerging from his room requesting something nonessential” watch.
We have polite, normal, short conversations.
No funny comments. No snarky remarks. All we do is get along. It’s not very fun.