Why We Fight - 08/29/2007

Ever feel rut-like, In a rut, rut-a-licious? (I was going to say rutted, but that's really not polite in some circles).

Monday through Friday, work work work. It's all so exhausting. Then to have to come home and start dinner, pick up after the kids (and sometimes the husband) gets to be a monotony I don't enjoy. It's a fight with monotony every day.

Last night, sitting on the overstuffed arm chair with the ottoman, reading a book, Isabel sits in my lap and leans back on my chest to watch tv. With my right hand holding my book, I place my left arm loosely around her front. She grabs my arm with both of hers and hugs it tightly against her body, leaning her head on my arm. Holding on to it for dear life, she then plants two perfect kisses on my arm. I am mush. This is why we fight.