Oh.My.God.

Can you suffer PTSD from being talked at too much, for too long, without cease and when you're the only adult around? I'm starting to think it's definitely more than possible. The boys were up sooo early despite the spring forward business (nonsense) but just after Tom left; naturally. We played, built, demolished, ate their way through the farmers' market (seriously, the amount consumed was unprecedented), wailed, repeated things, gnashed teeth, ate more. It is days like this when A) I am reminded of the Sisyphean task single parents have and how much I admire those of them who do a good job, and B) I realize how it's impossible, or very nearly so, to accomplish much of anything more than just getting through. I don't remember what I had for lunch, I'm behind on work, I'm tired beyond words and it all begins again tomorrow. At least there's school. Once again, how do parents home-school their kids? I have less than NO interest in that. Thank god my darlings are relatively well-behaved! I'm hell bent on making a nice dinner for myself tonight although I'm nearly equally tempted to have a glass of wine and a bowl of cereal. But no, I will nourish myself in the ways I can before I crash into a deep slumber, my hopeful book beside me, to be ignored for another day. Sigh!