Thank Goodness I’m Not a Single Mom

I’d lose my mind. Really.

Tim has been in Minnesota the past few days, he’ll be home late tonight. He flew up as a surprise for his father’s retirement. The fact that I’d have liked to have gone is just a bitter sidenote. It’s rained the whole time he’s been there and the vindictive side of me shouts, “HA!”

Sir Thousand Hands shows he misses his dad by being more inventive in his ways to find “trouble.” He’s discovered where the dog treats are and how to climb on top of the washer to reach them. The dogs love this trick and goad him into it, hourly.

The baby wants to be a big boy and thinks he can let go of the furniture, only to plop onto his bottom with a wail of frustration. I tell him, “You aren’t even eight months old, give it time.” He doesn’t find any comfort in that.

My hat is off to the military wives and single moms.


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