when I tell you I cried

I carry mom guilt. Not every day, but often enough. I always hope that I didn't screw up too badly as a parent. I have only a few regrets (thankfully?) and I can count them on one hand.  They're always there, in the back of my head, that nagging voice reminding me . 

Mom guilt. It's rough. 

Last weekend I was watching the GrandBaby#1.  She's two and very independent and very much likes to mimic me.  We were having breakfast and I gave her orange juice in a cup.  A cup with no lid.

She did very well and I snapped a pic to send to her mom and her auntie.  The conversation morphed into something unexpected:

Our childhood was the best.

Seeing the Dramas talk about these specific Friday night memories with such fondness made me smile. Something that at the time seemed so small and inconsequential to me.  Yet created such happy memories and left a positive lasting impression.

Reader. When I tell you I cried. Big fat tears. And I felt an overwhelming sense of, I don't even know - relief?  Relief I didn't even know I needed.  

Damn. 

July in the land of Covid19

I've been working from home since March 20.  Thanks Obama, er I mean Covid19.

I'm so much more productive at home. And, now that I dont' have a two hour daily commute, I don't feel rushed or that there isn't have enough time in the day to get things done.  The house stays clean.  The dogs are happier.  The cats are still assholes though.  Once the office opens up fully, I'll probably continue to work from home at least one day a week.  My boss said he'd be hard pressed to return to the office on a regular schedule.  #Blessed

I still can't believe it's July in the year of our lord, Two Thousand and Twenty. But also, it's been 2020 for at least five years, so.

In other news, 23 is getting married in October.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT I mean, she's been with the boy for four years, but HOLY FUCKING SHIT she's getting married. 

In other, other news, 20 is turning 21 in November and HOLY FUCKING SHIT my baby is turning 21.  She'll be legal to drink, smoke, and debauch but HOLY FUCKING SHIT she's my baby. 

I'm not ready.  For any of it. 

Day 16 Hey shorty, it's ya birfday

This kid.  She's 19 today. 

I don't even know where the time went.  It was just yesterday we were hard core discussing granola choices. 

I don't know how she went from this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

to this: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

right before my very eyes. It feels like I wrote her first birthday post just yesterday.

I love you to the moon and back daughter.  I wish you All. The. Things! 

Happy birthday!

Merry Ho Ho

I’m generally a glass half full kind of a gal. 

And Christmas time, generally, makes me happy.  People are nicer.  There is holiday music to be heard; presents to wrap; candies to make. 

But for some reason this year, I’m just not feeling it.  It’s not law school, because I’m done for the rest of the year and my next semester is the last semester so there is finally an end in sight.  It could be that after 10 years, my job is finally starting to get to me.  That whole “end in sight” thing cuts both way I think. 

Mostly though, I’m having one of those my job sucks, this isn’t how I pictured things, family isn’t all its cracked up to be, pity party for one kind of lives.

Then, as if I’m not already on the corner of I don’t give a shit and fuck it, let’s live in the car until they repossess it, trying to decide which way to turn, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back occurred yesterday.  My kids got into a fight.  A legit fight between a 14 and 16 year old.  Beyond the “normal” screaming and yelling and assertions of a life ruined.  Pushes were had, shoves were given, and one punch was thrown.  “I hate yous” were yelled and “why say sorry if you’re not sorry” was asserted.

On the one hand I really want to just say I don’t give a shit and let them hate each other five days before Christmas and see how that holiday spirit rings for them, wish them good luck in their future and tap out because clearly they know everything. 

On the other hand, I did what I think any good parent would do.  I took all things electronic (phones, iPods, televisions, radios, Nooks, computers, etc.) and I made them sleep in the same room last night.  And I disconnected the cable this morning before I left so the TV is useless to them.  Because as I explained to them last night: my Christmas wish is that spending time together without any distraction would allow them to realize that they actually do like each other, and dare I say it, love each other.  And maybe they can get back to being sisters instead of roommates who sleep in separate rooms and bitch about each other all the time while plotting the others’ demise. 

In hindsight, I should have handcuffed them together before I left for work today. 

April 29, 2013

On this day in history, at exactly 2:00 a.m., in 1997, I expelled from my womb one of the most beautiful women in the world.  She turned 16 today. I’m not sure where all of the time went, but it seemed like just yesterday she was soft and snugly and smelled like a brand new baby.  She had jet black hair that was 3 inches long.  She weighed 8 lbs, 3 ounces, and was 23 inches long.  She is and always will be my baby.  I dedicate this song to her (and all the parents out there with teenage daughters).

Link in case video doesn’t work.

My Own Personal Hell

Sometimes, as parents, we have to do things we wish we did not have to do.  I’ve asked myself several times the past few years exactly where I went wrong as a parent.  There are no clear answers. 

And with that, I am currently on my way to my own personal hell.  Because I am NOT one of those parents who lives vicariously through her daughter to achieve the dreams she was not able to during her own high school years. *coughsomecheermomscough*

Ahem.

Seriously though, I’m going Anaheim, California to watch 15 as she lives the Bring it On dream.  In living color.  With all the drama and screaming and cheering and perky bouncy teenagers one venue can handle.  And if I live through it (because it lasts three days AND it’s across the street from Disneyland) - and I’m not an alcoholic by the end - I’ll blog about it kick some cheer-leading ass and accomplish Total Domination!  And I think we’re going to Disneyland too. So, yay. Double the torture!

And I’m going to try really hard not to glare at all those perky little teenagers and their Happy! selves over my coffee.  And I promised 15 that I would not embarrass her by wearing my Cheerleader = Death shirt. 

And I also promised that I would not let 13 stop any cheerleaders and show them the difference between a donut-hole and a cinnamon roll.  Because even though 13 swears she is NOT ever, Ever, EVER going to be a cheerleader - and even though she swears that she hates all things cheer (except maybe her sister, sometimes) - that girl picks up routines flawlessly after just watching once (which makes 15 seethe). 

So with that, we’re on the road until Monday.  Have a nice, safe, quiet weekend. 

Will they ever learn?

I grounded the dramas last Sunday for a week.  Starting Monday they asked if they could get ungrounded early. My standard answer to this is always the same:  We?ll see how you behave/get along/stop annoying me between now and then.

Tuesday 8 called and said ?can I watch TV? and I said ?no you?re grounded.?  She said ?when can we get ungrounded?? I said ?when you learn to behave and get along with each other.?

She said ?MOM!  We were good all yesterday!  We didn?t fight or argue or anything.?

I said ?well, that was one day. I want to see a week of the good stuff.?

She said ?MOM!  I don?t care about a week. I care about one day.  I tried to be good AND YOU JUST RUIN IT!?

So I said ?and that is why you?re still grounded.  Have a nice day.?

Yesterday, 8 was pouring herself some root beer.  11 asked if she would pour her some too.  8 responded with ?You?re legs work 11!  You can get up and get your own.?

I said ?way to be nice to each other and get ungrounded early.?

This morning, 11 came in the kitchen and said ?Get my sweater off!?  8 said no.  11 said ?Mom!  Make her take my sweater off!?  I asked if she was going to wear it today.  She said no. 

I said ?way to be nice to each other and get ungrounded early.?

How much trouble do you think I?d get in if I hand cuffed them to each other and made them work together all weekend long? 

Heaven Help Me

The U2BM women are preparing our annual pilgrimage to sin city the end of August.  I was online looking at rooms, emailing with BFF about what we would be doing and seeing and what the dramas say we have to squeeze in.  BFF mentioned Thunder Down Under and too bad the dramas were going.  I was reminded of last year’s trip. 

We, 11, 8 and I, were walking down the strip, people watching.  We saw a sign similar to this one:

The flip side of that sign had the same men facing the opposite direction wearing nothing but thongs.  11 said to me “mom, are those naked butts?” and I said yes.  She said “I can’t wait until I grow up.”

That is when I fainted.

can’t win

Originally, my kids were supposed to go spend time with my sister in California for two weeks and I would once again drive to Bakersfield and meet them next weekend, on the 2nd to pick them up.  Then my sister called and said if I would let them stay three weeks, she would bring them all the way home.

The man and I both highly doubted the validity of this statement and thought we’d probably get stuck driving all the way to San Francisco to pick them up the weekend before schools starts, which would totally suck ass.

I sent my sister a text message Monday morning when I got to work.  I told her that I wanted to pick them up this weekend as originally planned. I sent the message at 9:00 a.m.  Around 2:00 p.m. the work phone rang. I picked it up, “Law Office.”

“Law Office.” a little louder this time.

Just as I was about to hang up, I hear MOM! in a very exasperated voice. 

I had to smile.  It was 8.  I said hello and asked what she was doing.  She said “I’m calling you.  I am not happy.  Why do we have to come home this weekend?”

I said “where is your sister?”

She said “sitting on the couch being very angry too.”

I said put me on speaker phone.  Then I explained that they needed to come home so they could meet their teachers before school starts on the 11th. 

8 said “can’t you just meet them and then tell us what they look like?  You know I’m shy.”

I said “no, besides, we need to go shopping for new school stuff and some clothes.”

8 said “can’t you just go shopping any buy us whatever. We will probably like it.”

I said no.  I said their dad misses them terribly and wants to see them so bad he is coming with me to pick them up.

8 said “great. so we can’t even listen to good music on the drive home.”

11 finally chimed in and said “great. It will be the longest seven hours of my life with the crap he listens too.”

Emotional much?

Okay, so the school where the dramas go has this little christmas shop thing they do.  You send money with your kid, mark on an envelope how much they are to spend on each person and then they have a shopper who takes them around he room to “purchase” their goods.  Last year they bought us a coffee cup and some rinky dink thing for each other. 

Since I give them each money and take them to a real store to buy for each other, I usually allocate them $2 to spend on each person at the little christmas shop.  That is plenty and the trinket they buy is of course, priceless to me and dad. 

This year, #2 shopped first. She was so excited. She told me that she shopped today and I could see her little gift bags under the tree. 

I think it is important that kids learn to shop and the gift of giving and bla fucking bla.  SO. Imagine my surprise when #3 tells me that #2 bought HERSELF five things.  Stickers, a necklace, two bracelets and a furry pen thing. 

I was pissed.  Three deep breaths later, I called #2 out and asked her what she bought. 

She spent .25 CENTS each on her dad and me and #3, and then spent the other $5.25 on herself.

I kind of lost my composure and told her that her actions amounted to her being a scrooge and selfish and told her that I was really disappointed in her and then I cried. 

I CRIED.  WTF is that about? 

I sent her to bed and then sat on the couch trying to figure out where the hell this was coming from.  Flooded with memories of christmas as a child myself.  Growing up poor, I don’t remember ever having much for christmas and I recall one year when our christmas feast was boiled hot dogs on sliced bread.  mm mm good. But I did learn the gift of giving and to this day, I am more satisfied and would much rather give than recieve. (except sex. I’m totally on the receiving end of that for way longer than is probably fair.)

Finally I went into her room and told her that I wasn’t mad, but dissapointed and tried to explain why I was disappointed.  That was really fucking hard since I cannot quite figure it out myself. I mean, she did buy everyone something.  And it is never about how much you spend on a gift, which I have said for years and reiterated tonight.  It is and should always be the thought that counts, but I said her actions made me (and #2) think that the only thing she was thinking about was herself.  I tried to gleen from her why she thought she needed to buy herself presents when the Jolly Red Fat Guy is coming in 13 days and all she could say was that she wanted them.  She finally seemed to understand where I was coming from but I’m not sure she really gets it becuase I don’t really get it. 

I keep telling myself that her actions were semi normal.  I remember once, when I was around nine, before I was kidnapped and my mom would leave us alone to get ready for school oursleves, my mom left me some of her tip money to go buy My little sister lunch at Huber’s Market (becuase she went to a school for ADHD and hyper kids and she had to take a lunch everyday).  Anyway, I bought her an apple and a juice and I spent the other money on a soda for me and some ding dongs and when my mom found out She. Was. Pissed. I think I got a right good ass beating that day.  So, I’m not sure if my emotions tonight are the sole product of #3's actions and my desire to raise children who are not selfish fuckups who only think of themselves, or my own emotional baggage that I cannot seem to unload.  All I know is that it is bothering me. Still.  Three hours later.

No words

Two things:

1.  I haven’t had a coke all day and I’m dying over here.

2.  10 just called me.  She calls me everyday after school.  She was upset. I knew this because the first words out of her mouth were ?Mom, today totally sucked.? 

She said there is a boy in her class who has ADHD and today he was calling her names all day long. 

At first I thought it was the typical name calling until I asked if we could talk about it when I got home and she started to cry. 

Apparently the names weren?t very nice, he flipped her off consistently through out the day and as the day progressed, it all pretty much wore her down.  It didn?t help that her teacher?s response was to say to the class ?I don?t want you guys name calling.?  I calmed her down and told her to have a better afternoon and I that we could talk more later and she said she felt better and was okay,  which for her usually means she is okay. 

Except.  I knew she wasn?t okay when she said ?mom, can I sue him for this??  To which I replied, ?that my dear, we?ll have to discuss later.?

Thursday Thirteen

I haven?t done this in a while.  I was going to list thirteen of my favorite blogs of all time in no particular order.  But instead, I will list the things I?ll be doing tomorrow in preparation for my baby to turn another year older, she is going from 7 to 8.  I?m not ready. I feel old.

1. Wake up.  This of course is essential to any day really, but, since I am not going to work, the thoughts of sleeping later have already crept into my mind and I keep reminding myself that it will not be a lazy day. 

2.  Take the dramas to school.  7 has no idea I?m sluffing work.  She thinks her party is going to be on Saturday. 

3.  After I drop them off, run to MIL?s house to pick up the new bike we bought her. 

4.  Crap!  Stop at Target and get her a new helmet to fit her newly grown dome.  I cannot believe I forgot that until right this very minute. Shit Shit Shit.  Okay, I?ll do Target first, bike second.  Shit.

5.  Go pick up her cupcakes and balloons at bakery. 

6.  Take cupcakes to school and drop off after brief meeting with teacher.

7.  Go home and clean decorate the house and put up balloons and banner outside saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY 7!!!  (She is going to be so surprised!)

8.  Somewhere in there, stop and have a cup of coffee and maybe a bagel. I am going to need my strength. 

9.  Confirm with her best friend?s mom that he is coming home with us after school. 

10.  Bake and frost her birthday cake. 

11.  Send The Man to pick up the dramas while I start cooking her favorite meal, Chicken Alfredo with garlic bread and salad.

12.  By now, it will be 4:30 p.m. and the family members will begin arriving for dinner.

13.  Eat dinner, have cake and ice cream, open presents, begin day one of hearing her new Hanna Montana, Meet Miley Cyrus CD over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over

 

Outrageous!

I have been struggling with this post for several days now.  I cannot quite put into words exactly what I am feeling.  I?m borderline pissed off, yet, anger, shock, outrage, and sadness all come to mind.  However, none is exactly what I feel, and mixing them all doesn?t come close to the feelings I have on this subject.  This subject has impassioned me to the point that not only am I going to blog about this, I am writing a few letters and making a few calls and I?ve already pissed off two people. 

Bad Dreams

I woke up Friday morning with 7?s face one inch from mine.  I could feel her staring at me. 

It was pitch black outside.  My eyes didn?t want to open.  They felt like they had sand in them.  She was hovering over me. I asked her what she needed.  She said she ?I had a bad dream.?  I said ?are you crying?? and she said no.  I said ?can you go back to sleep?? and she said ?not by myself.? 

I could feel The Man and the dog on the bed.  They each weight over 195 lbs.  I told her to go sleep with 10. 

When we finally got up to get ready, said ?so 7, what was your scary dream?? and she looked at me, anger washed across her face.  She put the brush down on the counter hard.  She said ?10 was making out with Johnny Depp and you were making out with Zac Efron.?

I said ?I thought you said you had a scary dream?? and she quickly corrected me.  ?No, I said I had a bad dream and it woke me up.?

I just want to know why 10 gets the grown up and I get the manchild.

how can they be related?

Tonight was meet the teacher night.  School starts Monday. 

I don't think 10 has slept in three days.  She is uber excited. She starts fifth grade this year.  To her, that is equivalent to starting high school, as the head cheerleader who is dating the start football player, and getting a brand new convertible bright pink VW Bug for her birthday.  She loves school.  She absolutely relishes the thought of learning and teachers and making friends.  She loves the smell of books and holding new notebooks and the feel of a new pencil is "heavenly" because "no one has ever used it before me."  swoon

7 on the other hand, wants to sleep “one more hour” every morning. She said to me the other day in a matter of fact voice:  "Mom, I am not ready for second grade" and I asked why and she had a one word reply:  "boys."  "Boys" I said with raised eyebrows.  She said "yep.  Boys.  They will chase me.  (nodding her head) I know it.'  I said "weren't there boys in first grade?" and she said "yes, but, they didn't chase me like the boys in second grade will."

Conversations

Me:  I thought you were going to stop growing?

7:  I guess if I stop eating I would stop growing.

Me:  No, cuz then you?ll die.  How about you just always give me kisses and hugs?

7:  Okay.

Me:  Promise? as I kiss her face off

7:  Yes.  Yes.  YES! 

Me:  Even when you?re 25? 

7:  stops, backs up, holds my face in her hands and looks very serious  Mom, you still kiss your mom right?

Me:  Yes I do.

7:  And you?re like 49 right? 

Dogs. Children. What’s the difference?

The vice principal called me at work yesterday.  She said she had 7 in her office and they were talking.  Apparently 7 and about nine other girls started a ?cheer club? and they?ve been doing cheers at recess.  I knew this because she shows me a new cheer every couple of days.  They are generally the same cheers, same moves, just different words. 

I didn?t think anything of it because after all, she is only seven years old.  Honestly, what could a first grader cheer about that would get her in trouble, right? 

Wrong. 

BUSTED! Santa Letters and Shit

Last night was 6’s (Drama#3) Winter Festival. She did great. I have decided there is one thing I need to buy and that is a video camera. I can take video on my digital but it only holds 4 minutes so I was only able to get two of her songs. That was okay though. She sings them every stinkin’ day in our own private performance!

Santa sent a letter to 8 (Drama#2) and 6 last night. He had lots to say.  I took the mail from work after our Christmas party. I left earlier than originally planned and it was a damn good thing because traffic was hell so I didn’t go to the post office first, instead I went straight home to get the girls and head to the festival. Grandpa showed up to ride with us and when he got in the car, he threw the mail in the back seat. You see where this is going don’t you?

After the show, we dropped grandpa off to get his truck and 14 (Drama#1) stayed home to pretend to pack because she flies to UT today to see her mom and spend Christmas up there. So, 8, 6 and I head to the grocery store for some necessary items such as milk, cereal, coffee creamer, and those damn granola's 8 was nagging about.

6 says “Mom, can I drop off the mail?” and I say sure. Then 8 says “Miss 6 Jingleheimerschmidt to Santa? Why does 6 have mail?” Lucky for me, she didn’t see her letter AND she didn’t realize it was TO: 6 and FROM: The North Pole. So say “did you know you can go to jail for reading other people’s mail? It is a law ya know” as I snatch the mail out of her hand. Then ever so covertly, as I pointed out Christmas lights on houses as we drove down the road, I pull those two Santa letters out and stash them in the cubby in my drivers door.

I said that I wrote Santa a letter since neither of them had written him a list yet and I told him that they weren’t behaving and he should bring them some coal. After a chorus of “No Mom! Don’t send the letter! We will write a list tomorrow when we get home! Please MOM! We don’t want coal.” I said well, I’m going to mail these and you two better get your letters out tomorrow so he gets them Monday or you will for sure get nothing. I explained that he can’t wait around until Christmas Eve to get lists because he has to load the sleigh and stuff like that.

Today I have the letters sitting on my desk. They will be re-enveloped in different envelopes, with different type and some Christmassy decorating. That was a close one!

Then this morning as I was driving in there was a roll over on the freeway. I heard about it WHILE I WAS SITTING THERE WAITING FOR TRAFFIC TO MOVE! Anyway, as I got closer I was able to see that it was a dump truck, laying on its side in the two left lanes of traffic and it had dumped its load of MANURE all over the freeway. Three guys were shoveling it away. No report on the driver but all I could think was what a shitty way to start the day!

Happy Birthday Baby

Tada! Today is your birthday. You were two years old in these pictures. They are my favorite of all the pictures I have of you.

You graduated from preschool this year in May. You have grown so big and tall and beautiful. I cannot believe you are six years old today. My baby. It is hard to write this without tears welling up.

I was reading your baby letters today. I remember so many milestones and funny stories from you. When you learned to talk, you only spoke a broken gibberish that sounded much like Japanese. And boy were you pissy when we didn't know what you were talking about. Luckily, you only talked that way until you were a little over two. Once you learned a few words, you never quit talking.

The first time you said 8's name, you were almost one and she was three. She smiled so big, and hugged you so hard. Then 8 looked at me and said "I love her Mom. I don't want to trade her back!" That is quite surprising considering she complained daily that you were in her stuff, following her around, taking her stuff, asking me why you wouldn't play with your toys and only wanted hers. Oh the joy never ends. I hear the same complaints today.

When you were two, if you or 8 wanted something I would always say "yes ma'am." Apparently you thought that was your name. When daddy asked you "what is your name" you said "me ma'am" and it stuck. You are turning six today and we still call you ma'am.

Then you went through the phase where you would say "I don't very like you" every time you got in trouble. You were about 1 1/2 years old at the time. This phase lasted a couple weeks. Right up to the night that I was tucking you into bed and you grabbed my hand and said "Mom, I don't hate you. You're not an asshole." Yeah. That was a proud mommy moment.

Oh, and then there was the time 8 tried to kill you on the roller coaster. You see, 8 loves a roller coaster. However, they scare the crap out of her. We were in Las Vegas and she wanted to ride the little train with you. I thought to myself, okay. One small hill, should be no problem. So I buckled you both in, put 8's arm around your back and told her to help you keep your balance. I told you to hang on very, very tight! You both had the biggest grins a mommy has ever seen. The ride started and you were both smiling and then as you came around the first turn into the little dip, 8 reached over with her right hand, hugged you and hid her head behind your back. The problem was that she was choking you with her elbow. I tried to yell at the kid running the ride but he couldn't hear me so I jumped the gate and ran up there like a mad woman screaming STOP THE RIDE! STOP THE RIDE! Just then I saw your face and your lips were turning blue. I yelled again STOP THE DAMNED RIDE! and the kid said "why" and I said "my daughter is killing her sister!" And he looked as you came around the turn for the third time and your whole face was read and your lips were even darker blue. And he slammed the stop button and I ran over to you just as 8 sat up with the biggest grin in the entire universe and said "that was fun! Can we do it again?"

Now here we are, three months into Kindergarten and you can already read. I bought you the Little Critter book for your birthday and you can read it all by yourself. There is one story in there called I was so mad! You told me that story was like you and me.

While growing up so far, you've been my kid who messes in everything and pushes every one of my buttons. You started climbing on counters and using chairs to reach things before you were 3. You have killed countless number of rolls of toilet paper just to see them spin away when you flush an end down. However, you've also greeted me every day with the biggest smile and shining eyes that said I was the coolest, bestest mommy in the world. You make me laugh everyday with the things you say and do. Like that time when your sister told you to stop picking your nose and you said "Why? I'm not eating it."

And, you are the best potato washer and kitchen helper in the whole wide world. Or whole tired world as you used to say. You bring something to my heart that your sisters cannot. I cherish my private time with you and I love it when you do my hair. My favorite time is when you take my hand and say "come on Mom, lets relax in a hot bath in your bathroom."

Life with you has been both challenging and rewarding. You are stubborn just like your mother and even though you are only six, we still have occasional screaming matches. Mostly because I am mature like that. However, like any good wine, you only get better with age. You are working on using your inside voice and I am working on new ways to remind you. School has helped you to learn patience and reason. I have learned that beating you would only bring jail time. I threaten to beat you with a stick, and you see right through me.

When I asked you what I was going to do when you were all grown up and big you looked at me with those big eyes, threw your arms around my neck and said "keep giving me lots of hugs and kisses." You have a deal young lady! I love you ma'am. Happy Birthday.

Frusterated Mom

Sometimes I wonder if I’m really a good mom. I mean, I know I’m a good mom because I take care of my kids, I love them with all I’ve got and then some and I would sacrifice anything to provide for them. I feed and clothe them and as much as they need to be beat sometimes, I restrain. I even let them have potato chips for breakfast because some days, its all about picking your battles. Even when they say stuff like “you have a wiggly butt” (the 8 (Drama#2) year old – recently no less) and “I don’t hate you mom. You’re not an Aah-hole” (from the sweet, tender lips of a two year old (Drama#3) at bed time. Many years ago.)

However, sometimes I can feel them irritating every single stinkin’ nerve I’ve got, and the mere sound of their voices make me want to lock myself in the bathroom and never come out. These are the times I question myself. I wonder if other moms go through this too. If other moms play the guilt game with themselves. If they feel guilty because they get to spend only hours with the kids on the weeknights juggling homework, dinner, baths, play time, reading time, TV time and cleanup/bedtime and then on the weekends just wish the kids would spend the night somewhere and give them a few hours peace and quiet.

This was my weekend. Loving them to death but wishing they were not home. Wishing I could just go for a drive and not come home until I felt like it. Or go to the park to read without worrying when I have to leave so dinner will be done on time. But when I see those angelic little faces and I say “good morning girls, time to wake up” and then they track me down to get the good morning hug and “did you have good sleeps” question, it's all worth it to me.