We all have random thoughts we aren’t proud of. Some are vehicular rage driven, “if I ram my car into the back of theirs…”, others are less violent but still not our best moments. It isn’t often that I speak my random thoughts, but Friday I decided to share my thoughts with my husband.

Friday, I confessed to my husband I didn’t want to come home.

I was completely serious.

Before anyone casts the first stone and uses my head as target practice, let me give a disclaimer: I love my family. When I come home to my family it’s the highlight of my day.

With that being said…

Friday sucked. Friday was a bigger disappointment than fortunes in fortune cookies.

Friday was the end of my work week, I was exhausted and starving and the last thing I wanted to do was rush home, take care of my dogs and cook dinner. As I was talking to my husband on the phone while driving home, we discussed an incident at my daughter’s school that involved him receiving misinformation and driving back and forth from one town to another only to go to the wrong location to pick her up. Fun times.

Earlier that day, I had worked with the easiest clients, handled the easiest of problems and felt very appreciated at my job (it’s hard to hear my sarcasm from so far away, but I’m hoping you get it). On top of this, I had a physical therapy appointment that wiped me out. Not the worst day ever, but stressful and tiring, so needless to say, when I get a call from the husband telling me the school told him our daughter was in a location she wasn’t…I was ready to throw in the towel.

In nine years of marriage, I’ve never (that I can remember) told my husband, I don’t want to go home. Wait, I’m lying, last year we took a trip to Jamaica and when we were packing I did mention, I didn’t want to go home. But that’s different. No one wants to come back to North Carolina after being on a Jamaican resort.

Twenty minutes after telling my husband I didn’t want to come home, I met my family at a local restaurant for pizza and the thoughts and feelings disappeared. I still felt guilty for feeling like running away but it made me think. If I felt like running away, there have to be other mothers out there that feel this same way. So, I asked another mom I know (who wouldn’t think I had completely lost my mind) if they ever felt the same way I did. Her answer, absolutely. So, I asked other moms and their answer: YES.

What does this say about moms? We’re human, we don’t have superpowers and dear God we do get tired. So very tired.

Most of us have people we can lean on, for me, it’s my incredible husband, for other moms, it’s their friends and family. Feeling like running away isn’t a sign of bad parenting or selfishness. It’s self-preservation, the mind knows when we need a break. My husband took my kids fishing, my dogs were away from the day and I temporary had the house to myself and the funniest thing happened: I missed my family.

In the end, as badly as I wanted freedom and as much as I craved some me time, I really wanted to be with my family. Don’t get me wrong, the quiet time was amazing and I needed it but there isn’t a replacement for family time.