I am currently doing my Master’s of Education summer courses which means I am in classes from 8:30 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. Which is to say: I get up at 5:30 a.m. Need I say anymore? Okay then, I will. Which is also to say that I go to bed at 12:30 a.m. because I can’t seem to slow myself down. Which is to also say that I am a glutton for punishment. So here’s what I was thinking just now about being a mother-on-the-run:
I love how a mother-on-the-run comes home and finds underwear flung in the oddest places. How she notices just how many pairs of shoes there are spread willy-nilly all over the entryway. And I love how this mother immediately assumes her role as Chief Picker-Upper as soon as she walks in the door. And how that same mother amazingly lasted almost one full hour before she looked at the clock to realize that she indeed was already wearing out her one and only nerve allotted to her for that day. One hour in is not too shabby, people. Not too shabby at all.