I just finished reading an article telling me why I'm so tired. The answer? Enzymes. I don't have enough of them. Or, more precisely, I don't have enough of the right ones.
I have a much simpler reason. I'm tired because my body has been through four pregnancies. My breasts have nursed four children. My hands have changed more diapers than Congress has witnessed lies. My arms have lifted 28,923 loads of laundry. And my brain has tackled hundreds, if not thousands, of homework problems.
Enyzmes be damned.
I've earned the right to be tired. In fact, all mothers have earned the right to be tired. When did we decide that we didn't have that right? And who had the nerve to tell us that?
If I take an enyzme, will I suddenly be less tired? I don't think so. My body is simply reacting to more than three decades of hands-on mothering. And now it's saying, "Hey, Jane, how 'bout giving me a rest? It's all right if you admit to being 60 years old and that you have the tired-on from hell.
Enzymes. Right. Sounds likely. Leave it to modern medicine that we need yet another pill. When did we get the idea that we have the right to go through mortal life feeling as though we've already been resurrected?
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