During the summer, I am a stay-at-home mom.
I also flirt with SAHM-ing during the school year because I only work outside the house 2.5 days per week (which, sidebar – is the exact amount of time all human beings should be required to work.) and spend the other 4.5 days at home attempting to match 437 slightly different Ninja Turtle socks, sneakily throw out beetle exoskeletons without my kids noticing and memorize all the words to every Roger Day song every written.
I know what you’re thinking: Sounds G.L.A.M.O.R.O.U.S!
And it is! Well, not glamorous exactly, but it is a special time that I truly hold dear. It’s also a excruciatingly exhausting and sometimes mind-numbingly dull time, but that’s the intricate dance of motherhood isn’t it? We vacillate between sublime bliss and blinding aggravation like a tennis ball at Wimbeldon and we do it with a
So on the days when my smile feels a touch more like a grimace, I’ve developed the adorable little habit of texting my husband. Mostly because he’s awesome and I miss him (Hi Honey!), but also for other reasons…
I Need Backup
I Need Something from the Store
I Need Him to Tell Me I Didn’t Just Screw Up
I Need Him to Laugh with Me
I probably should’ve mentioned this before, but when reading this post regular messaging and data rates will apply.