There's no manual.
I'm hiding. Ok, maybe I'm not hiding, maybe I just didn't tell anyone where I am. I've sucked down half a cup of coffee and have moved onto something with bubbles and orange juice because it's Mother's Day. Two of our kids have a cough that rivals that of a 70 year old chain smoker. One of those two is licking snot off of her own face. And then the third kid is upstairs in bed with the second migraine in a week. The first one landed us in the ER last weekend. Not this one. Not today. Not on Mother's Day. Mother's Day. It's a strange day. On one hand you want to celebrate it by sharing it with the people who made you a mother. On the other, you want to run away and hide in a hotel, maybe on a beach, definitely without the ones who made you a mother (but I swear I love you). See, those people who made me a mother? I share every single day with them. There are no days off. I have not peed alone in 8 years. There is no break. Mothers think about their ...