Toast. I am toast. My summer fun goals are out the window. If I play another board game thanks to the rainiest summer ever on record I think I’ll have a stroke.
Beach…pool…summer camp…fort building…fairy tea parties…painting…car trips…we did it.
If I have to hear “Mom, so what are we doing today” one more time, I think I’ll jump out of the window…and it’s totally drama worthy because I live on the second floor, so I’d surely break or bruise something. Anything.
I have constant dialogue that just wont stop. From the moment I wake up, pre-coffee mind you, to the moment they go to sleep, my entourage follows me.
Staring at me.
Leaning on me.
Sitting on me.
Begging me… to see the latest drawing, invention, creation, or disaster…depending on your perspective.
I think it started out as the former and became the latter.
I just need a moment…alone. A moment where I can string two thoughts together seamlessly or have a phone conversation without having a pantomime of “can-I-have-some-ice-cream-play-outside-I’m-bored-she-hit-me-in-the-eye.”
And before you tell me I should be more patient, more present, more of a mother. Just stop. I don’t want to hear it.
This is where I am and I am just going to sit in it for a moment.
Just a moment.
There, that’s better.
Time to breathe, shake it off, and get back in the game.
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