I don’t think I’ve left the house without my children for over a week. We were snowed in for three days, my babysitter couldn’t make it for my afternoon of writing and sipping wine, and now my kids are sick.
I am bored and my kids are turning into wild caged animals.
During the present suspension of play dates, preschool, and childless grocery shopping, I am pining away for a vacation from my children.
The solitude, the thinking, the conversation that rises above preschool level. Decadence!
I know I’m complaining – even if you can’t read ALL my thoughts, know that every single one of them is currently complaining about something. And I know right now, at this very moment, I have a bad attitude. And I’m also aware that given a little perspective, I could realize that someone else out there is having a really bad day, or a bad month, or a bad year – one that would put my circumstances and complaining heart to shame.
I know. I know! I KNOW!
Part of me wants to say, ‘Hey, just give me one day to be bitchy. I deserve it! If I’m still complaining tomorrow, you can tell me to shut up.’
I know that’s lame. I may not be able to stop myself from still act like a complaining bitch today, but please know that I know it’s lame.