DB started working the night shift last week and it’s had an interesting effect on me.
Of course, if I’m burnt toast than DB can’t be any better off. Worse, I’d wager.
Despite our crusty states, these three small things just keep bouncing around us without pause. Like, literally. As in, please-pass-me-the-remote-all-this-motion-makes-me-sick without pause. Even during the night, the wild things creepeth. It’s like they can smell that Momma’s spidey-senses are on high alert and even the littlest, tiniest, cricket-like-est sounds will send her bounding out of bed and streaking into the hallway, a veritable Wonder Woman, magic lasso at the ready.
Unfortunately, all this nighttime activity leaves my super-strength a bit sapped during daylight hours (bet you didn’t that super-mom’s weakness is daylight, did you? Mothers are vampiric that way). I think what this means is that I need to level up.
Level Up, Verb: To gain enough experience in a video game, through either fighting or questing, that your character “gains” a level, thereby increasing strength, speed, magical ability, etc. Eg., “I got Cloud up to level 99 in the first disc, tracked down Sephiroth, then pwnd him so bad that my PS exploded.”
If you didn’t already know what leveling up was, that probably made it clear as mud, yes?
Let me explain in pictures.
In a video game, as you progress the enemies you fight get more and more difficult. If you fail to level up sufficiently, your characters stay relatively weak. Then bad things happen and you start looking like maybe a zombie revolution would actually be in your favor.
So you go out, and you just keep fighting. Even if it’s barely by the skin of your teeth that you make it through battles (or even if it’s only by dint of multiple saves of your game; I’m not sure what the parental equivalent to that would be. Possibly Momma time-out, when you put the kids in their rooms so’s you can pull yourself together), you’ll eventually find that this wonderful, glorious thing happens.
All at once, you hit harder, run faster, think clearer, and definitely would never, ever lose to munchkins.
Let’s face it: I can’t give up. My kids will still be there in the morning (and evening and night) regardless. So am I going to give in? Will I lose my schmidt all over everything? Will I explode like some disgusting pig-lizard that’s been turned inside out by a malfunctioning teleportation device?
But I’ll clean up after myself.
And then I’ll keep going.
Because that’s what we do, parents. We haul ourselves up by our bootstraps, and when the bootstraps break we levitate because we just freaking have to.
Props to you, all my parental friends. Go forth and gain many levels so that someday, when we reach the golden years of level 99, we can watch our children struggling and, even though we know we could take all their enemies out with one swing, we won’t. Because we love them.
And we know that it’s worth getting stronger.