I finally did it. I packed my bags and left. For a week. All alone. No husband. No kids. No laundry. If you ignore the fact that my husband practically kicked me out and my friend Val kidnapped me kicking and screaming from the sidewalk, you can actually be proud of me. I slept as long as I wanted, I ate in restaurants while having adult conversation and was actually able to taste my food. Restaurants people. Real ones, that don’t have a kids menu and feature things like sashimi. I got to dress up without worrying about getting runny nose stains on my shoulders. I went shopping for whole entire days and browsed fancy clothes that will never fit me to my heart’s content. Talking about clothes that don’t fit, my friend Val the kidnapper is the kind of woman that looks  fabulous in inhuman inventions like jeggings that makes my butt look like the dark side of the moon.

And all this while my saint of a husband kept the kids alive and well.

And covered in ketchup.