by ayallawt | December 11, 2009 12:17 am
Tonight I set out to blow off some steam. To write about my achy back, my sink full of dishes, my messy toy choked living room and the still packed suitcase that decorates our bedroom floor, commiserating with my husband’s forgotten dirty socks. I wanted to complain about the lack of time for myself, the great posts that come and go in my head and never get to see the screen’s flickering blue light. About the numerous exciting projects I never get to and the many good friends I’m neglecting.
I planned to whine about tomorrow’s dinner party that looms, big and daunting on my schedule, about the accumulated fatigue from many sleepless nights, from the stay at the hospital, from the trip back home on the plane, all alone with my two little tyrants. I set out to grouch. I really did. The trouble is that all I can think about right now is my baby boy’s chubby little hand, rubbing his fuzzy little head while he nurses. My little girl on the plane, playing make-believe berry picking with my beauty marks. My husband’s warm embrace. Sigh. It seems that even I can’t take myself seriously tonight. Count your blessings people, you will get less wrinkles that way.
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