Leann slipped down the stairs, her shoulders tensing as she passed the kids play room.  From within came the sounds of a toy train and children’s voices.

She smiled and took her seat at the computer.  With the kids happily playing, she could finally get a few minutes to write down her thoughts and feel sane.

She logged on to her account, opened the program, and composed her mind to stillness.

“Mom?”

“What!”  Peace fled and she felt her musceles bunch as she turned to see her seven-year old standing before her.

“Can I have a bowl?” he asked.

Of all the idiotic . . .

“What do you need a bowl for?” she asked.  She went on without waiting for his answer.  “Don’t you know that this is my time?  I’ve told you a hundred times if I’ve told you once that you’re only allowed to have quiet time in the game room if you can stay in there and not bother me.  It’s off to your rooms, all of you!”

“But, Mom,”

“No buts.  If I have to count you’ll do a chore when you get out, understood?”

“But, Mom!”  He was desperate, near tears.  “Sara’s throwing up–she needs a bowl!”

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