I want to sleep in. I want a key lime pie, a really good one, and a big bouquet of flowers, and I want to snuggle, and I want a long scalp massage, and I want two extra-strength Tylenol deposited in my mouth at six-hour intervals throughout the day. I want Tums to taste like Milk Duds. I want my son to be bigger and I want him to stop growing, right this instant. I want to not be pregnant anymore. I want my next baby to be sleeping through the night. I want to meet him; I want a little more time before I meet him. I want time to slow down. I want it to speed up. I want a career; I want to stay home. I want to define myself outside of being a mom. I want to be a mom first. I want a thriving garden, and I want to save the bees, but I don’t want bees in my specific area. I want ten new intimate friendships with cool, like-minded women where I can know and be known. I want a new pair of Crocs. I want to be chic. I want to stop hearing about Ozempic. I want to look like Anne Hathaway. I want a warm mug of peppermint tea and a fresh pair of sheets on the bed. I want to go to Ina Garten’s house. I want to live in Ina Garten’s house. I want Ina Garten to make me goat cheese crostini with balsamic glaze and tell me I’m doing a good job. I want to go to a museum. I want there to be a bed in a museum that I can take a nap in. I want to understand poetry better, but I don’t want it explained to me. I want my son to start talking, and I want him to tell me if he has a tummy ache or if he’s tired or if he needs a hug or if he needs to be left alone. I want him to never feel pain. I want him to know pain is a part of living. I want him to exist in a perfect world. I want him to grapple with the fact that the world isn’t perfect. I want this cold spring to give way to summer. I want the heat to break. I want to swim long, slow laps in a pool. I want to float in a lake that’s a perfect temperature. I want to eat on a patio with everyone who matters to me. I want a basket of fries and a vanilla shake to dip them in. I want more childcare; I want more time with my son. I want an Arnold Palmer; I want to be on a boat. I want an Arnold Palmer on a boat. I want to see a movie in a cold and dark movie theater with the good, reclining seats. I want to be anonymous. I want to be famous. I want to go to Costco, but I want nobody to be there. I want to be on my phone less. I want to throw it into the ocean. I want to watch TikTok for approximately three hours while prostrate without interruption. I want everyone I love to live on my street. I want my kids to be in school; I don’t want to miss a moment. I want to want less. I want to say I don’t want any fuss. I want the fuss. I want a kiss on the forehead. I want to be with everyone. I want to be left alone. I want to be needed less; I want to never stop being needed.
I want to sleep in.
I’m not a mother, but I read the entire thing!
Same same.