Just three months ago I was crawling into bed a seven o’clock every night with no energy left for the day. When the girls proposed walking in the evenings I felt a huge ball of dread forming behind my chest. When they said nine o’clock as a good time, I knew I’d never make it. But through copious use of caffeine, pre-workout stimulants and naps, I did it. I have shown up every night for at least a mile walk and enough body weight exercises to leave me sore the next day. It is now routine for me to stay up until ten or even eleven o’clock at night. I still wake up at the same time I always did, 7AM to get the older kiddo off to school. The world didn’t end, my arms and legs didn’t fall off, I’m doing it, I am a night walker. We go at eight now and that takes a little pressure off, but I still can’t believe this is me. Functioning on a semi-normal level, not sleeping twelve hours a night. I am still napping just because nap time with the little one feels so good and the afternoon drag hits me hard. I find myself napping to make the day go faster more often than out of pure exhaustion as I used to. I get bored and lonely throughout the day and napping with the baby makes for killing two birds with one stone. You can only clean the house so much before you’ve had enough. Especially when you spend most of the time cleaning up after a grown-ass man. I can say that here because he doesn’t bother to take the time to read my blog. A blog for another day I think.