I need a break. And it needs to be longer than a bathroom break, with a baby, a dog, and two cats pounding on the door, barking, meowing, and screeching.
I need a break that doesn't involve a trip to the grocery store, picking up dog poo, or stopping at one of our many pharmacies.
I need a break for one day where I don't have to call Medicare, CCS, a doctor, a pharmacist, our health insurance company (who just raised our rates $60 a month), a day without 12 bills in the mail about premiums and how they aren't responsible for this cost because they're just plain evil, and blah, blah, blah.
I need a break from my darling baby who is malabsorbing again, waking up 3-4 times in the night and screaming during meals. I need a break from administering meds, forcing enzymes down a toddler's throat, and worrying constantly about her weight, and if that cough is pneumonia, or just a cough.
I need a break from Sesame Street and Baby Einstein, and the two hours of respiratory treatments a day.
I need a break from the dishes, cheerios wedged into the cracks in the hardwood floor, my barking dog who hates the mailman and won't let me brush the big mat out of his tail, the litter box and the little kitty feet who track litter into every room in the house.
I need a break that involves lots of pasta, red wine, a movie, a massage, a trip around the world, a farmer's market in Provence, a swim in the ocean, a walk through the mountains, a bubble bath and delicious novel about love and betrayal, and one nights rest where the pillow is soft, the room is quiet and the morning is a long way away.
I need a break from myself, because even if I took a break, I would still be worrying about all of those things that aren't getting done because I'm taking a break.