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.