Maybe I need a time out! I tuck myself into my pantry and sit down. The kids think it’s funny. I think it’s Heaven.
With a prayer of gratitude I penned this letter into my daughters' journal knowing I was given a great gift this year: the age of amnesia.
We walked into the modern offices and I felt a little weird again. In my head, I stuck out like a sore thumb.
If my kids had their way, they would hand me a rider that would rival Van Halen’s.
We do it all. And sure, it makes them feel loved, but not because we’re checking all the little boxes of what a “good mom” should do.
I want you to know that you matter. You, and all you are doing, are enough. You are beautiful, and you are a success.
Give me the strength to drive to work, knowing my heart is at daycare and school.
Sometimes I want to run away, hide in a corner of the house where no one can reach me until I find the strength to break free from the stress that winds itself through my nerves.
So where do you draw the line and how far do you go with explaining ‘what’s outside their bubble’? What is the age rating on the atrocities of life?
Sometimes it’s nice to have something just for you.