Alive and well.
I think I'm mommed out.
As I was getting my kids ready for school this morning I had this thought: Would anyone miss me if I hopped in the car and drove to Vegas? Don't get me wrong, I adore my children, love them to death. Would do anything for them. In fact, my children are some of the ONLY children I can tolerate. But there comes a point when you just need a day off from wiping noses and pouring glasses of milk and making sure everyone's outfitted with clean underwear, etc.
To make matters worse, I'm helping out on Tuesdays in Becca's first grade class with art. It's mostly fun, but they're a class of huggers. Three of the little girls met me at the door yesterday (one of them being mine, so I can't complain about her) and one of them actually held my hand as they walked me into the classroom. I might sound callous in saying this, but please, little person, hands off! I hope Becca isn't going around hugging strange women. Or men, for that matter.
I guess the problem is that I don't care for children. To steal words out of Carrie's mouth, I'm not very maternal. Kids were never on my list of things to do. I was going to go to law school and then take over the world--or at least a small part of it. And then boom! I meet a handsome man, fall in love, get pregnant and repeat three times. Once they were here (the kids) I couldn't leave them. The thought of someone else raising them makes me oogie.
And so here I am, thirteen and a half years as a mom later, having a mom-overload day. It's a good thing they're cute and I love them beyond reason, or I might see if I could make it to Vegas in less than seven hours...
As I was getting my kids ready for school this morning I had this thought: Would anyone miss me if I hopped in the car and drove to Vegas? Don't get me wrong, I adore my children, love them to death. Would do anything for them. In fact, my children are some of the ONLY children I can tolerate. But there comes a point when you just need a day off from wiping noses and pouring glasses of milk and making sure everyone's outfitted with clean underwear, etc.
To make matters worse, I'm helping out on Tuesdays in Becca's first grade class with art. It's mostly fun, but they're a class of huggers. Three of the little girls met me at the door yesterday (one of them being mine, so I can't complain about her) and one of them actually held my hand as they walked me into the classroom. I might sound callous in saying this, but please, little person, hands off! I hope Becca isn't going around hugging strange women. Or men, for that matter.
I guess the problem is that I don't care for children. To steal words out of Carrie's mouth, I'm not very maternal. Kids were never on my list of things to do. I was going to go to law school and then take over the world--or at least a small part of it. And then boom! I meet a handsome man, fall in love, get pregnant and repeat three times. Once they were here (the kids) I couldn't leave them. The thought of someone else raising them makes me oogie.
And so here I am, thirteen and a half years as a mom later, having a mom-overload day. It's a good thing they're cute and I love them beyond reason, or I might see if I could make it to Vegas in less than seven hours...