Have you seen mom? (or, how Bermuda saves my sanity)

Hey mom… Hey mom… Hey
(…witness protection program…)
mom… Hey mom… HEY MOM!

The weekend didn’t start well.  I believe my 5 year old said “mom” easily 30 times before breakfast was on the table Saturday. Even my hubby noticed: “Dude, give the woman a break,” he said. It was somewhat downhill from there.

I am sure I will write more posts about the guilt I feel as a working mom.  One guilt I feel is what I call “desire to flee guilt”. It doesn’t come very often, but when it does – bam! – I want to bolt the house screaming, jump into my car, and not return until I’m sure everyone in the house is asleep, preferably 3 days later.

I have never done this, but man oh man did I want to this weekend.

How is it the kids’ neediness peaks at the exact same time as my tolerance of neediness is at low tide? It is uncanny.  I believe it is further proof that God thinks he is way funnier than he really is.

What do I do? Usually stand on the back porch and take a few deep breaths, remind myself that I chose to have kids and then try to visualize a beach in Bermuda… ahhh. I am refreshed and ready to take on whatever comes my way. Well, at least for 20 minutes or so.  Because in 20 minutes, the kids and the damn dog will decide they all need to be in the bathroom at the same time I am using it.  They don’t like the smell of broccoli cooking but they voluntarily hang out in the bathroom with me when I’m there for an extended visit? What gives?

Breath in, breath out… South Hampton Beach…pink sand… scooters…

A little while later, my darlings will then each ask me something at the same time, from opposite ends of the house. Both will use a voice that conveys urgency and distress. Both will, after calling for me, proceed to yell at each other that they “were first”.  I pretend I don’t hear.

I wonder if we have any wine in the house. What time is it? Crap, not even lunch yet. They’d give me wine in Bermuda. I wonder how much flights are…

And then the tide will finally come in and the normal-ness of our kid dominated life will no longer aggravate me. I won’t mind hearing mom repeated so often that I start to believe my child has turrets.  It won’t bother me that in order for both kids and the damn dog to be in the bathroom with me at the same time someone has to sit on my lap.  Nooooo, I’ll be perfectly fine.

Delta flight number 656 departs at 11am…

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