I need a LOCAL best friend.

I have a few that I'm lucky to call best friends. One in California. One in Washington. One in Tennessee. One in Kansas, though we have severely drifted in the last year. And of course my husband, but I'm talking about a girl friend who gets why I hate bra shopping and why it's completely reasonable to watch Pretty Woman a million times and eat ice cream while doing so. Thus, he does not qualify.

And it would be really awesome if I had a best friend who was a mom, was a Christian (or at least didn't knock my beliefs), dabbled in the crunchy/homemade/country-fried lifestyle Kenneth and I live for. But ya know, even one of those similarities would be awesome. I need someone I can vent to, get out with, have a girls night with, etc. But not here. I miss home. In my youth, I made friends so easily. These days, not so much. Too introverted I guess. Always doing something with my kids? I don't know.
 I spend most of my time at home. We share one car, his work schedule is erratic and I have 4 kids. Most days I love it though. My job has a pretty lax dress code (yoga pants and t-shirts for the win!), my actual required duties come down to changing diapers, feeding the kids and getting the older 2 to school (anything else like dishes, laundry and walking the dog is a bonus) and I get paid in kisses, hugs and "you're the best mom ever!" statements. I also get woken up 3-4 times a night to nurse a baby who has found fun in nipping, battle with two kids over homework 5 days a week, chase after a toddler whose favorite word is NO!, MINE and screams at a loud decibel when either words are said to her and not by her, and along with all that I attempt to keep everyone in clean underwear, bellies full, and the house picked up enough to have a clear path to the exit in the event of a fire. And yet, I love it 99.9 percent of the time. I love doing crafts with my kids, reading them stories at bedtime, teaching them how to cook, playing catch, going to museums and building forts. Being a mom is the best job ever. I actually prefer to spend time with my kids over being away from them. Because I know I will blink and wake up one day to teenagers who want to spend time with their friends over me, and do their own thing and not in an "old-fashioned" way like I would. So I cherish this time greatly. And largely because I didn't have a mother growing up and I know how hard it was so I take this role that God has honored me with and these angelic beings he has trusted me with very seriously. So when I have a day from hell, like today, the only thing I want to do is run away as far as I can. For a good chunk of time. My little cling on was on the war path today and apparently sleep was not in her plan but screaming due to LACK of sleep sure was. The darn kid wouldn't even go to sleep in the ergo on my back. Between that, a homework battle with the older two and the toddler throwing dog food around the living room every time my back was turned, I was ready to lose it. These are the days I'm jealous of my husband who leaves the house and gets away and has adult conversation that includes full sentences and no whining. But then I think of all the things he misses and I'm glad I'm home. On top of that, I feel guilty when I go do something that doesn't include my kids and isn't classified as an errand like going to the library alone, or shopping or taking a nap while my husband watches the kids. And some days, hard as he tries, he just doesn't get how overwhelmed I get. He says it's because I hold it together the other 6 days of the week.

Funny thing is I remember when I would tell people I had 3 kids and a deployed husband while pregnant and people would gasp and say things like "Oh, you must be busy!" and "Wow! You sure have your hands full!" It didn't feel like it though. I juggled it all. And then, I had McKenna. My stubborn, strong willed, persistent, red headed firecracker of a child. She has thrown a wrench in my routine. She's completely unpredictable. She refuses to conform to a schedule of any kind and gives me a run for my money as far as who is more stubborn, her or me. But she's cuddly, and adorable, and chubby and her smile melts your heart. But there are days I want to rip my ears off because she screams at a decibel that can't be within safe limits. But I do love that little girl, more than life itself.

I think tomorrow, before K goes to work I'll go wander around the library by myself and take a mini break. I need a breather. Maybe I'll peruse the thrift store for long sleeve shirts that fit my post-baby/breastfeeding upper half. And I'll try really hard not to feel guilty. I know he sure as heck doesn't feel guilty when he goes to play air soft. And I wouldn't expect him to.