I know, I know, one day I am truly going to miss hearing J request my company. He is my little sweetheart, tells me he loves me all the time completely unprompted. One day he’s gonna be all, Mom please leave, my buds and I are hangin’ here and you’re crampin’ my style and I’ll be all, yeah, well, Mr. Sticky McVelcro, that’s sure a different tune you’re singing than when you were 3 and he’ll be all, MOM! I’m 17! and I’ll have to crawl upstairs and pour a glass of wine. I know it’ll happen.
But ya know what? Mommy doesn’t effin’ want to play. Mommy doesn’t want to play trains in the basement. Mommy doesn’t want to play Hot Wheels. Mommy doesn’t want to blow bubbles outside and by the way kid, it’s like, 30 degrees out there and windy. Mommy doesn’t want to play Candy Land. Mommy doesn’t want to play Shoots and Ladders. Mommy doesn’t want to watch a movie. Mommy doesn’t want to play Mommy Lion and Baby Lion. Mommy doesn’t want to play computer. Mommy doesn’t want to go to the ever-lovin’ park…did you catch the 30 degrees and windy part?
Mommy wants to slug down half a bottle of Midol and crash on the couch with one of the four books she has on photography and PSE 5.0 so she can figure out how in hell to take decent pictures of the whirling dervishes she calls sons. Mommy wants to be able to eat something and know for sure she won’t be curled up in a ball a half hour later, cursing the misery that is her stomach lining (chocolate has been removed now as well. Let’s recap: caffeine, dairy, artificial sweeteners, and chocolate. PMS has been murder this month; if red wine has to be removed you might as well commit me). Mommy wants you to get your cute little butt back in your room for the quiet time you are supposed to be having because you had a raging tantrum at the New!And!Improved! rec center this morning.
J goes to school three mornings a week, it’s not like I have him tied to a post in the yard and he never gets to play. He has playdates, he has school, he has his adored big brother, he has trips to the park/library/indoor playground. Yet I can’t get him off my hip. I look forward to the evenings when the boys are in bed so I can think uninterrupted, but by then I’m too pooped to party. Gah.
And just think…three months til school is out! Oh.Joy.