I remember when my parents bought their first laptop when I was ten. My favorite thing was Notepad where I would painstakingly type with my two index fingers. My first efforts of writing life onto computer screen. I thought, "If I am bored, I will write. And my life that I write will be an interesting one."
Who would have guessed 15 years later... still committed.
This is my life during the in-between. Staying at my parents. Not quite moved out of our place, not at all moved into our new place. Transition [sucks].
The rest of the day is a blur. There is more playing. Sweating. Facebook. Plenty of Instagram. A little more feeling lame. Dinner. The big man comes home. Relief. Stinky hugs that are now so very, very sweet to me. Strong arms. Prickly kisses. Lots of wrestling on the foor, while I sit on the couch content in laziness. Make fun of husband for being tired after only 10 hours of working in ungodly heat. Feel bad. But not really. He knows it's foreplay [insert New Zealand accent here and receive high-five if reference is recognized]. Or so we hope. Bed time. So tired. Your turn. No your turn. Always ends up being both of our turns. Darkness falls. Last kid finally sleeps. Or at least quiet. Finally alone. Look at nails. Think about painting them. Laugh at myself. Talk till way too late with large sexy beast. More if we're lucky. Sleep. Phone beeps. Instagram alert. Someone thinks my life looks good. Success. Silence phone. Sleep.