The house is dark, and while the Husband snores away, I see on the monitor that Big Kidlet is doing his best imitation of the stink bugs of my childhood spent in the desert, with his tush sticking straight up in the air. How he sleeps that way, lord only knows, but it sure is adorable. Here I sit, the dishwasher quietly humming, and although I would much rather be sitting here writing solo, with both hands for that matter, or maybe even the eyeglasses I've left on my bedside table, that's just not possible because I've got a Little Kidlet co-pilot who wants to alternate between nursing, gazing lovingly into my eyes, and talking my ear off at this late hour, in that order.
Who wouldn't love that? Well, I proclaim enthusiastically, I do, and also confess somewhat guiltily, I don't. By this time of day I'm ready to cry "I give!" and I gave, and now I need to be off duty. Except, you're never really "off duty."
This tweet caught my attention the other day, and which I re-tweeted:
"Having a baby dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the world of self-absorption."
Mhmmm, that about sums it up. But many days I'm still kicking and screaming.
Photo courtesy of the workroom
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