I am a negotiator.
I am a referee.
I am a diplomatic lunatic wielding the baton of power called “Mother.”
My hair is turning grey, sneaky strand by sneaky strand.
I have a drinking problem, which is to say that I can’t get the drink to my face without it going all down my front in various quantities.
My voice is the loudest, and the softest.
I go between “put that down, please” and “get your fingers out of your face” repeatedly.
I am the singer of the bedtime songs and the voices of the bedtime stories.
I am the head chef, the driver, the personal assistant.
And at the end of each day, I am tired.
But I am other things, too.
I am a magician.
I am an engineer.
I am a storyteller, typist, editor.
A confidante and sage to those who need one.
A soul-searcher, an observer, a boil-it-down-and-give-me-the-truth seeker.
A craftsman, a tailor, a designer, a yarn-worker.
A singer, a musician, a collector of sounds.
An artist with perhaps too many artistic pursuits.
A lover of all things intrinsically beautiful.
But this evening, it is nearly six o’clock and all I am is…
wanting some goddamned peace and quiet.
ROLL ON, BEDTIME.