I took a vacation this weekend. It. Was. Awesome. Just me and the husband at the beach. This was a trip that has been a long time in the planning, and it was perfect.

We had a great time. We laughed, we talked, we ate seafood. And we slept. And slept. And slept.

We had 3 nights and 3 mornings at a hotel. The first morning, we slept until 10:00. The second morning, we slept past 11:00. And it’s not like we slept late because we were partying into the night. We were in a remote beach town, far from the world. Every night we turned in early. The only reason we didn’t sleep until noon the third morning is because we had to be out of the hotel by 10am.

I think we were tired.

There was a lot we could have done. There are a lot of attractions down there, lots of day trips we could have planned. In the end, however, we skipped almost all of it. We took naps instead.

There’s something slightly scary when you sleep solid, heavy, and uninterrupted for over 12 hours (twice). It’s like when you start cleaning a long ignored portion of your house, thinking that it wasn’t that bad, only to find scary things crawling in it. I didn’t think we were THAT tired. Apparently, I was wrong.

The sad thing is, my husband was a total morning person when we got married. He used to jump on the bed to wake me up while I threw pillows at him and hid over the covers. He would look down on me with condescending scorn on the weekends when I would shuffle into the kitchen at 10:00, looking to scrounge up some breakfast. He would inform me that 10:00 is the middle of the day! He’d been up for hours! It’s almost lunch time–how can you be eating Cheerios? I would squint at him and try to remember how much I love him while I grunted into my cereal. I would also compare his cheerfulness to one of an annoying dog. A golden retriever, perhaps, who needs to be taken on a walk. Or be kicked.

I’m not sure if I have corrupted him, or if the children have. Perhaps I should be proud, take all the credit. After all, it’s not every woman who can turn a golden retriever into a two toed sloth.

There are larger implications of this, of course. If we are that tired, being parents of two children, how much MORE tired are parents who have 3 or 4 or 5 children? It’s like the world is run by people who are operating on an intense sleep deficit.Seriously, it’s amazing that more people in Utah don’t die in car crashes. Considering the child to liquor store ratio in that state, mothers are probably more dangerous than drunks.

**This is a joke. I do not think mothers are more dangerous than drunks. It’s meant to be hyperbolic for humorous effect, although I will admit to being a scary, scary, unsafe driver for the first 3 months after my daughter was born.***

So to all you parents out there, I just have one piece of advice:

For the love of flannel, go take a nap already. Your body and other drivers will thank you.