I’m hiding in plain sight right now.
Because, let’s be real, in a house with three young kids, I’ve got nowhere to hide.
And, even if I did, they’d find me like the adorably, exhausting, stage-5 clingers that they are.
I love them.
I love them with my whole heart.
BUT, for two minutes I don’t want anyone to ask me for
something to eat,
a drink,
a snack,
another something to eat, drink, and snack on because they neeeeeeed more,
a tissue,
toilet paper,
help getting dressed,
help with schoolwork,
help with the tv,
help finding a toy,
or helping cleaning up a mess they had no trouble making all by themself.
If it sounds like I’m complaining, it’s ‘cause I am.
I’m tired y’all.
And so I’m hiding, for as long as I can, at my eat-in kitchen table while I scarf down a block of cheese.
Ain’t no energy or desire to fib about how easy all this is for me, as I suspect (and kinda hope) some of you are hiding right now too as you read this.
Eat on mama, then rejoin those babies of yours and ride that cheese/chocolate/chip/soda high for as long as you can.
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