Why do I bother going out? Or coming home??

It seems that every time I go out, whether it be for 5 minutes or 5 hours, I walk in the door and something occurs that makes me wonder why I bother coming home.

Or whether I should even leave the house. If I don’t leave, then I won’t hear the Grumpy one yelling and the kids crying as I near the front door on my return.

Many a time I have stood there wondering whether I should just turn and run for the hills – except the thought of running, and hills for that matter, cause breathlessness. I don’t think I’d actually make it even if I tried.

I did go for a walk this morning with a friend. Our only kidfree time of the week. We missed a coffee, so it wasn’t all good, but the walk and the kid free bit was enough.

The goodness lasted until seconds after walking in the front door. The LEGO box wall in my way wasn’t quite enough to stop me from feeling just a little bit refreshed and … good.

What did cause the good feeling was getting to the end of the hall and into the lounge, and watching the littlest one (9 months old tomorrow) falling off the couch and stopping himself on the wooden floorboards with his face, just far enough away for me to watch it happen, and do nothing about it, whilst dad was in the kitchen doing something.

Something that didn’t involve thinking about a safe place to seat a baby, obviously.

And they wonder why I get cross!

Of course, it has crossed my mind that this is all a ploy to stop me leaving the house so that I may be available to prepare lunches and do their washing when they so desire.

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