Are You Zhazha?

I hardly ever get to venture out by myself.

I don’t know how to act when I do get to venture out by myself.

I hardly ever have a moment (second?) of silence.

I usually have to clean up a big mess or pull a choking hazard out of the boy’s hand when I do get a moment of silence.

I have to pick up the stuff (toys/hangers/clean clothes/breakable objects) I just picked up.  (And then pick them up again.)

I’ve lost weight from having to chase them and clean up after them all day.

I gained weight because I needed to keep them (and me) happy when they were in my belly.

My hair is super dark brown now and the grays are popping out like crazy.  (Who/what else can I blame? My hair wasn’t this way before the kids!)

I “look like a mom.”  At least that’s what a former high school classmate told me the night before our 10 year reunion.

I look like a mom and wonder “what’s wrong with that?!”

I cannot take a shower, go potty, talk on the phone or sit down for a meal in peace.

My showers, potty times, phone conversations and meals are more entertaining/interesting.

I do things I haven’t done since I was a kid – color, play Candyland and Memory, do cartwheels, blow bubbles, swing.

I realize I shouldn’t do half of the the things I hadn’t done since I was a kid.

I laugh and smile every day.

I rub my head and sigh every day.

I get the best good night kisses and sweetest hugs.

I get slapped in the face and tortured by tantrums.

My days are NEVER boring.

I couldn’t tell you what’s happening in the world but I could tell you what SpongeBob did or the words to the third Cinderella movie.

I couldn’t imagine life without them – because of them, I am me.