Tired

Why don't children care when you are dead on your feet? All I am asking for is 15 minutes. A quickie. Just enough time to close my eyes and have a quick dream about a vacation spot. Maybe a remote beach somewhere. Someplace where children are forbidden and all I hear is the sound of the scantily clad waiter opening my freezing cold beer and the faint sound of snoring coming from my dozing hubby in the lounge chair to my right. I would gently laugh at the thought of my sister, who would be babysitting for us, trying to keep one kid from waking up the other . . .then I'd take a healthy drink of my beer and return to my magazine.

I haven't had a "real" vacation in close to 3 years. Visiting family once a year doesn't count - at all. But doesn't a beach somewhere sound nice? With chairs tucked up under some shade trees and servers available to get you whatever you want. . .like a pedicure. And Cheetos.