If You Give a Sarah a Massage Chair…
A few weeks ago, I was visiting a friend out of town. We had a sleepover at her parents’ house; partly because they were away on vacation, mostly because we’re both moms of young boys who love the rare luxury of sleeping and eating and toileting in peaceful solitude. Of all the rooms in her parents’ house, she sold me on the one with the massage chair. “Remember that time you were mildly violated by a pedicure massage chair?” she asked.
I am their Best Mom
Mother’s Day is around the corner, so I’m feeling introspective. As my precious cherubs take their afternoon nap, I find myself reflecting on our morning together. It’s wonderful that they are tucked safely in their beds getting rest; I almost killed them a few hours ago. They argue-screamed the entire way to the doctor this morning while I was snorting Stress Away oils and consuming coffee intravenously. “He’s looking out my window!” “No – HE’S looking out MY window!” “That’s MY window because THAT’S HOW JESUS MADE IT and he DOESN’T WANT YOU LOOKING OUT ITTTTTTTT!!!!!!” And on and on and on.
