I just got home from an evening at the home of my friends who have two small chillens. I was invited over for Chinese food and Ugly Betty (aka The Best Show Evah!). During dinner, the 3-year-old ate two green beans and then proceeded to wrap himself in the dining room curtains, which greatly entertained the 13-month-old. They are darling children.
Really. I mean it.
But … this household is in a state of constant disarray. I really admire my friend’s ability to be a very calm, very balanced mama. She doesn’t sweat her kids eating food off the floor. Her only qualm about the curtains was that her son didn’t actually pull the curtain rod off the wall. I want to take her calm and rub it into my skin like salve.
But … I can’t imagine living with two needy little people and a third who just sort of doesn’t get it. Tonight, the grown-ups got into a fight in front of me, which was a little weird. I could see both sides. And mostly I could see the side of “OMG, I LOVE living alone!”
So, I’m back home, geriatric poodle fussing in my lap, never-ending kitchen remodel calling to me softly, foxie doxie running around with a roll of toilet paper. It’s so quiet here. I love it!
Scary admission: I actually looked at my friends’ crying, overtired daughter and thought, “Uh, yeah, I don’t think I really want one of those.” Because I am dead inside. Or just honest. Or just haven’t gotten laid in 29 months.
Not that I’m counting.