Or you could say, "Rest a while, or you will come apart."
My sister gave me a book called Prayers and Peanut Butter: The Mother Book. The author told how in her youth she used to admire the serene, mature mothers she met who "smiled tranquilly and drifted on by".
Years later as she was shopping wearily with her own children, she caught the interested gaze and smile of a young girl and smiled back as she went on her way. Then she had an epiphany. It wasn't Serenity and Tranquility; it was just Being Tired.
So, in honor of Sundays and Mothers Being Tired, here is my favorite nursery rhyme.
Here is wicked little Walter,
Singing sweetly from a psalter.
But I can see, and so can you,
His catapult beneath the pew.
(It was a moment of pure luck that I confiscated the water gun before it walked into the sanctuary this morning.)