The other adult in the house

If I ever appear to be talking to myself, I don't have a blue tooth and I'm not crazy. I'm just talking to God. Some days he's the only adult around until my husband gets home. And I'm pretty sure he's listening because I haven't been on the evening news yet as the crazy-exhausted mommy who drove her minivan full of kids into a ditch.

However, my conversations with God are often full of "Yeah buts ... " and sarcasm. It seems irreverent, I know, but, sometimes, it's the only way he and I get to talk. And I think he knows that and meets me where I am. Many of our conversations lately sound like this:

God, are you sure about this three kids business? I mean, my husband is back at work and I'm ALONE with them.

You're not alone. You've got me. And besides, you said you wanted kids.

Yeah, but they're so close in age and I'm getting old. And gray. And really tired. And one of them pooped his pants the other day.

You wanted three of them, remember?

Well, if we had stuck to my plan we'd have had kids two years earlier than we got them and I wouldn't be so, well, old, you know.

If we'd gone with your plan, we wouldn't be having nearly as many conversations, now would we?

Touche. Can you please just make it so I don't end up on the 6 o'clock news? I don't want to be THAT mom.

I'll give you the good sense not to get behind the wheel when you're exhausted, okay?

So, that's a "No" on making my children sleep longer?



Silence ...

Great.