To All My Friends Who Don't Have Children
I love you, I promise I do, but please stretch your minds a little and try and think of what it's like to be in my position. No, I can't take a vacation for a week without my kids, just to hang out with you. I can't take a detour during a car trip an hour out of my way with screaming children just so we can sit in your not-safe-for-kids house so you don't have to get dressed and meet us at a diner.
I can't go out drinking on ladies' night at your favorite bar, because my husband works the next morning, so I can't be hung over—I have children to care for.
Please don't call me on a weekend just to talk about how tired you are even though you slept in until 10. I've been up three times last night, and that qualifies as a good night. I also regularly wake up at six-thirty just so I can have a half an hour of peace.
Please don't complain that your house is messy—I understand your husband doesn't pick up his socks, but I just scraped dried poop off the side of the toilet and just finished a load of laundry that smelled like sour milk. I'm sorry you haven't dusted.
If you come over, realize I have young kids, so sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting isn't going to be possible. If you aren't interested in playing with them with me, don't come over. And please do not have the gumption to look grossed out when my 2-year-old sneezes and gets snot on you. It's mucus, not poop.
Tired of Being the Only Adult in the Room
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