We unloaded the kids from the minivan after our weekly family date night at the pizzeria. After we shuffled them all inside and started to wash the tomato sauce off them, we sat them in front of the TV to watch their favorite show: America's Funniest Home Videos. My 2-year-old calls it “People Falling Down” and my 1-year-old calls it “Cats.” Both are accurate.
With them snuggled in and clean, I thought I could make a rare pre-bedtime escape. “I'm going to go out for a walk tonight,” I whispered to my husband. “I'm tired of breathing recycled air in the gym. And I smell like a gyro, anyway.”
He followed me to the mudroom to conspire with me out of the munchkins' earshot. He's actually a really supportive guy when it comes to getting me out of the house. He gets that it's a 24/7 zoo, complete with feeding times, outdoor schedules, and so much poop. So. Much. Poop.
He stipulated, though, that I should stop at the market for a gallon of milk - a walk that would require me to traverse through a section of town lined with bars.
I'm sitting in the bathroom, basically locking myself in solitary confinement while I type on my phone. I'm not hiding from my kids - no, that would be cliché and no different from what I do every day. Hiding is my norm, but tonight I am hiding from something...
It's hard as parents to know when a child is crossing the proverbial line from being willful, high energy, and strong towards being potentially diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. Preschool is difficult; it's too soon to tell. Kids are still learning their boundaries, mastery of school skills is only...