You probably won’t get invited to most things we do now. We probably won’t come to most things you invite us to (if you invite us).
Don’t be offended. Or do. Up to you.
Let me tell you why.
At this time of our life cycle I can’t visit with you. Not more than thirty seconds at a time anyhow.
I will have to stop you mid sentence in order to attend to a scream. Or feed someone. Or change a diaper. Or put someone down for a nap. Or get someone up from a nap. Or ease a boo boo or make peace between two that are fighting. Or feed someone. Or clean up a mess someone made. Or change a diaper. Or play with someone or respond to a wail of, “mooooooommmmmiie”. Or put sunscreen on someone. Or take it off. Or bathe and ready one for bed, or both. Or…you get the idea.
I won’t be able to answer your questions-not fully anyhow.
I will most likely have one or even both babies in my lap pulling my hair, my eyelids or even my lips apart so I’m probably not paying attention to whatever you are trying to tell me anyhow-though I really, really want to.
If you don’t have small children, let alone any children, you will be frustrated and wishing you were anywhere but where I am.
If you do have small children, but they are not with you, then get your ass somewhere there aren’t children and enjoy that time.
If your small children are with you,…with me…, Lord what were we thinking anyhow? Let’s throw them all in a padded room, grab the bottle of wine and call it a day.
You might want to hook up with me after 9pm or so. When the little ones are finally passed out from pure raising hell exhaustion. But to be frank-I’m still not listening. I’m dreaming of my pillow. And enjoying the quiet. And praying, praying for the babies to sleep through the night. All the way. To maybe six am. Six am bliss…..
What -were you saying something?
It’s not that I don’t want to see you. Spend quality time, have an adult conversation, over a glass-err-bottle of wine. I’d give anything, anything to do that. But it’s not to be. Not in this cycle. And truth be told, it gives me anxiety to try. When I am changing a child or making a bottle or about to tend to an issue, or have to scream my bloody head off,…I know… you are patiently waiting for me…and it makes me anxious. Because, well, I don’t know how long I will be. For you, to be waiting, for me, is just nuts. For both of us.
So no, I probably won’t invite you anywhere and no I won’t make it to much that you invite me to, knowing that:
1. You are praying me and my tribe can’t make it anyhow (who wants a bunch of crying kids at their shin dig?), or
2. You only invited me, or maybe me and my husband, and all we want to do is sleep…and possibly snuggle, or
3. I can’t arrange childcare cause no sitter in their right mind wants to come deal with our tribe, or
DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STUFF I HAVE TO BRING JUST TO POSSIBLY HAVE THREE MINUTES TO VISIT WITH YOU?
But thank you, anyhow.
Try us again. In about three years. Maybe.
You might be invited then too. Perhaps sanity will have returned. Perhaps.
However if I’m a raging alcoholic lunatic by then, well sorry. It was nice knowing you.