Sometimes when my husband is gone
and my unbelievably-sweet-but-also-extremely-needy son has asked me a few too many unanswerable questions
or has reminded me for the seven-hundredth time that he really really really neeeeds that $399.99 Lego Set
that just so happens to be advertised everywhere,
I go upstairs,
lock myself in my bathroom,
breathe in the quiet,
and read a chapter (or two) of The Help.
And I emerge slightly more capable of fielding the impossible “who, what, when, where, and why’s” of my curious little three year old
and far more prepared to face another day of single parenting.
(Between a staff retreat and a mission trip to the Dominican Republic, Matt has been gone much of the past two weeks. He returns home today, and we can hardly wait to welcome him home! This single parenting gig is so not for me.)