When hubby works late it’s just me dishing up dinner plates and sitting down at the table with the boys.

It’s just me reminding the boys to eat and not to drink all their milk before they are even done with their first bite of “real” food.

At least 50 times of reminding them to eat and 30 minutes later, dinner is done.

It’s just me afterwards, wiping faces and hands, clearing the table, rinsing the dishes, putting away dishes and empty containers and wiping down the table.

I gave up wiping down the table.  I don’t really care enough that it might be sticky.

Morning comes quick enough.

It’s only me barking out the orders, tossing empty threats around and considering plea bargains.

It’s just me helping with pajamas, tidying up rooms, turning down beds and setting out toothbrushes and rinse cups.

It’s exhausting yielding all the boys inquiries alone, being the only one around to “hey look at this” and being both bad cop and good cop.

Bed time is quieter then when Daddy is home too, there is no wrestle or rough time.

It’s just me with a video, or a game or some books.

Only I say good nights, sleep tight, see you in the morning light

and try to sneak away before more questions arise or stories to tell get remembered.

Then the house is quiet and I sit somewhere hoping they both stay in bed and don’t come looking for me.

Isn’t that just terrible?

When it’s only me I can’t hide in the bathroom for very long.

They always look there first.