One thing

Please just give me one thing to look forward to. One thing that is mine alone. That I don’t have to share or talk about with anyone. That makes me feel like me again; just me, not someone’s mom or wife. 

I want to know who I am when I’m not cooking someone’s dinner or changing someone’s diaper. I can’t seem to remember. Everything in my life revolves around this family and I am so tired of it. I want one damn thing to call my own.

So tired

I’m so tired my hair hurts. Solo night-shift duty with twins is no joke. Doesn’t help that one is sick and both are teething. 

It’s only 8:30 in the morning and I already need a drink. 

These are the days when I question my survival. It’s just so much. So much touching and feeding and carrying and changing and washing and loving. Plus the older one with his mama please get me mama carry me mama I want mama I can’t mama no.

People ask how I do it. Honestly, I just do. What choice do I have? 


I am hardly even trying to do the right thing anymore. 

I’m just too tired.

Giving in is so much easier; except for the guilt. Always with the guilt.

If only I were a sociopath, instead of an obsessive compulsive depressive. 


He says I can tell him anything.

He says he’s not going anywhere.

After nearly 15 years, you would think it would be easy for me to believe him.

And yet I still hide things; I still lie.

Because I’m convinced that if he knew all of it, really and truly everything about me, he would leave.

What do I want?

To feel content with my life.

To figure out why I don’t currently feel content and fix that thing.

To stop feeling so sad and anxious.

To enjoy my babies more.

To want my husband more.

To not want things that are NOT ALLOWED.

To feel like myself, and not just a mother and wife. Like there is a me that exists apart from those roles.

To get drunk with my girlfriends and not by myself.




I miss my husband 


Thailand, before we had kids (obviously)
It’s strange how you can miss someone that you see everyday.

Every evening we sit across the table from each other and (try) to discuss our day, while urging H to eat more and C and L to wait just one more second for mommy or daddy to finish eating. Then it’s off to the upstairs and the hours long bedtime routine. By the time all the babes are down I’m ready to go down too. So I tuck into bed with my book, while my husband heads downstairs to work or watch TV.

“I love you,” whispered as he crawls into bed a few hours later. “I love you, too.”

That’s about it for weekdays. 

Weekends can be better depending on H’s activities and the babies’ nap schedule. Sometimes we spend nearly the whole day together. But there is always a meal to be made (or cleaned up after), a child to comfort or put down for nap, a load of laundry to wash, a dog to be walked. All of these little things add up to our lives as parents, leaving little time for us to be just us.

Admittedly we are just now coming out of the newborn fog. Things should improve as the babies continue to grow, sleep better and become more self sufficient. But there will always be three kids and only two of us. Outnumbered and outgunned. Our marriage is vulnerable, there’s no denying it.

But I am willing to fight. We have to fight. Because we are the heart of our family. We have to make it. And I think we will. Because I know that I miss you and you miss me and for now missing each other is what’s holding us together.