Kind of Like A Prostitution Whore.

After we started having kids, I started fantasizing about getting away with Husband for the weekend, checking into a nice hotel, and lounging in peace. We used to sleep late on our days off. We used to lounge.
Lately I have developed a new fantasy — going to a fancy hotel by myself, checking in, ordering room service, and sinking into a fluffy bed … ALL BY MYSELF. Sleeping in peace. Sweet, sweet peace. Maybe that’s what I’ll ask for when Mother’s Day rolls around. 

Today everyone in my house was extra-grabby. Some days it’s kind of endearing. That’s when only one or two people are grabby. But when all three of them are grabby, it wears on me. Husband smacks me on the ass before he heads to work. TWO pulls on my hair and chews on my shoulder. He slobbers on his little hands and then sticks them down my shirt. ONE wraps his (surprisingly strong) little arms around my leg and squeezes. He squeezes my arm. My neck. My waist. He waits until I bend down to tie my shoe and leaps on my back like a spider monkey. He rubs my legs and asks about fat lumps and stubble. He tries to pull up my shirt so he can blow on my stomach. WHO TAUGHT HIM THAT?!?

Today we went to the grocery store. I decided to “wear” TWO in my Ergo carrier because I could tell he needed a nap. His left hand wandered into my armpit and stayed there, pinching and pulling at the skin. ONE hung on my arm the whole time. I felt like a koala bear. I didn’t mind it so much, but then we got home and it went to a whole other level and I found myself having to extract my body out from underneath children just so I could move my arms. Then I felt bad for being annoyed.
I guess this is what they mean by the phrase “touched out.” I feel a little prostitute-ish by the end of the day. I hope that doesn’t mean something is wrong with my mothering skills. Maybe there are women out there who don’t get fazed by this. Maybe I am just funny about needing a little personal space. 
All I know is, my plan for this evening involves locking myself in the bathroom safely away from grabby hands. I’ll be in there for awhile … FYI.

Just now I asked ONE, “Why are you digging your knees into me?!” and he said, “Because I love you! And you’re comfy.”
I imagine that when I’m being squeezed, I have an expression a lot like TWO’s in the picture above. But I like knowing that I’m “comfy.” That’s what a mommy is supposed to be. 

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