One of the twins is thrashing, causing me to cover my face and hope for the best. She proclaims, "We need better 'propossites.'" I chuckle because I understand what she's trying to say - positions. When you've been a mom this long you can understand an entirely made up language.
I get a little note this morning when I open my desk, informing me that I'm mean. I ask my oldest what that was for and she tells me it's for the other night when I disciplined her and the others for acting like yahoos in public. Yeah, I am a mean mom. I'm not here to make friends, I've got a job to do.
My dad once said, "It is always my will to do nothing, but that is not God's will." As I sit here on this overcast day sipping tea at work, I'm thinking about how badly I want a nap and who I would be willing to kill to get one.
I run the water, throw in some lavender epsom salt or essential oil. I disrobe and slip into the hot water nice and slow. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Then I hear: "MOM!!! You're taking a bath? ... Can I get in with you?"