My kids love hideouts.  They come in all shapes, but not all sizes.  They're always just big enough for them and not me.  It makes me laugh, they balance precarious pillows and dangle heavy blankets and say, "MOM! Come in and see!"  When I look inside and think maybe I could stifle my claustrophobia and squeeze in, it collapses on my head and it's their turn to laugh!

I love my hideout, too.  Some days it's my office and my worktable, some (rare) days it's my bed, some days it's my whole house, and most days it's my head.

It's comfy and cozy in there.  It's just big enough for me, but I can always make room for someone else if I want to.  It feels safe, predictable, and I can make it look how I want.  Usually.

Today, someone peeked into my hideout uninvited and it collapsed.  I'm still sitting under the figurative pile of pillows and blankets trying to figure out how to put them back.

Because of the situation, I can't blog about the details.  I can only say that I'm feelin' a bit insecure, uncertain, sad, and wishing I could erase parts of this day.  {Wouldn't it be nice if our day was on a big white board and we could just obliterate a few sections and re-write it?}

Here's hoping for some help putting all my blankets and pillows back into place...

1 readers took time to leave a thought:

4 Little Men and Girly Twins January 20, 2010 at 11:08 PM  

love you!

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