Mommy's having a melt down

I need a time out. Not for as many minutes as I'm old - but for a couple of weeks. And it doesn't need to be on a quiet beach with a cabana boy serving me Bahama Mamma's, or at a spa... ( or maybe it does?)

I need my time out to be an idyllic world where someone else does the laundry to my liking, irons all the wrinkles, puts them all away, and all I see are empty laundry baskets.
Also design the meal plans to my diet/ family tastes, create the shopping list, do the shopping, walk the dog, brush the dog, clean the litter box, practice the kids (happily), encourage them to do their homework and sort their room, shovel the walk and scrape the ice off the car.

Monitor the car maintenance, keep it filled with gas, and make sure the inspections are up to speed. And convince police officers that I should get off with just a warning.

But I don't want my husband to do it all. Lord knows he's got enough on his plate already. Seriously. He needs a time out, too.

If all that were done, I could focus on work. And be brilliant. And all my ideas would be supported. And innovation would be embraced. And common sense would rule over tradition.

Maybe if all that were done, I could enjoy playing with my kids once in a while. Maybe I'd go on a real date - and stay in a fancy hotel over night while someone I trust can watch the kids.

But so help me, if one more person tells me to "enjoy this time now because it goes all too quickly," they will find my foot planted firmly in a private space on their personhood.