I confess I suffer from a rare syndrome that only appears when I have to put my kids to bed.
I confess the anxiety I never had now reaches high levels as the clock starts ticking that dreaded hour. It's always chaotic and my kids are very good at the “I’m not listening and I’m ignoring you” game.
I confess that I can't stand them wanting one more snack, one more minute in the tub, one more book, one more...
I confess I hate doing it all alone.
I confess I don't even want Amor to be there because if he is, he'll screw it all up even more. For the idea of Papi being home equals playtime and only playtime...and of course he can't say NO.
I confess as I child I had a maid at my service and I dream the impossible: To have one now.
I confess I want my nights just for ME and I fee guilty for wanting that.
I confess that the feeling of tenderness and peace overpowers any other feeling as I watch them sleep.
I confess even after all this I wouldn't want to be anybody else and I still want to be a mother one more time.