If I could be just a mother for a day. . .
If I could be the mother without being the accountant, the secretary, the chef, the maid, the activities’ director for a dozen people . . . If I didn’t have to spend my days working on insurance and worrying about whether my passport is ever going to get here.
If all I had to do for just one day is care for my boys, then maybe I’d feel more like myself. But that’s not going to happen, so I need a break.
I leave you with this, and I’ll see you in a few weeks:
Motherhood is paid in peanut butter kisses and squirmy hugs, spit-up for lotion and a high tolerance for gross things. Mothers are sleep-deprived and often lacking in her own personal needs. Motherhood is paid in toothless grins and sleeping angels. Some days that’s enough.