This morning is the first time I've been able to catch my breath in 3 weeks. I count on the 2 1/2 hours from 8:45- 11:15 on Fridays as mine, for me, and me alone. Today, I'm doing something different than what I usually do. Here I sit in a java house, getting deep with myself. I'm staying out of the stores because I fear my financial future. The retail therapy can wait; this is pretty darn peaceful. Last week at this time, I was busy on the phone, trying to contact the appropriate specialist for Nora and her numerous little health maladies. Two weeks ago, I spent the morning ushering Maggie to the doctor, and then for an x-ray.
So, imagine my surprise today when Nora's preschool invites all the mothers in for a Mother's Day party. Are you shitting me? I cannot sit through a reading of "I Love You This Much" and eat pink cupcakes at 9:00 a.m. I have blogging to do, coffee to drink, brain cells to waste online. Mother's Day is something between my children and me. Please leave the job to my husband and kids, and let it wait till Sunday. Then, strike up the band. While you're at it, pile drive me, give me sloppy kisses, and parade in the lovingly-made seashell frame. That's when I want to be adored as the great momma I am. Because I can't be a good momma if I don't ever get time to be all by myself.
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