Sometimes I hold my lips against my newborn’s face, and breathe her in.

Sometimes I pretend to go to the toilet so I can have five minutes alone.

Sometimes I think of the term a knob of butter and use it as an excuse to put as much butter as I want in the fry pan.

Sometimes I convince myself it’s going to rain so I don’t have to go for a walk.

Sometimes I stare out the windows and am desperate to escape the confines of my home.

Sometimes I enjoy painting and puzzles more than my two year old.

Sometimes I dance and sing and jump around my house when I am home alone with my kids.

Sometimes I ignore my phone when it rings.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be someone else. Someone rich, someone skinny or someone with long fingernails. Someone into facts and figures or microwave meals.

Sometimes I wonder what other people are feeling behind all the smiles and hello hello’s and how are you’s.

Sometimes I stay up longer than it takes to breastfeed, enjoying the quiet and the deepness of the night and the solitude.

Most of the time I just flow through my day to day, and don’t have time to think about any of these things.


2 thoughts on “sometimes

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