when you're away

I stay up too late.

I eat strange things for dinner.

I usually have a sick kid on my hands.

I hit up the drive-thru.

I think I'll get lots of things done. (But I don't.)

I pray more.

I let the kids play in the bath until they are prunes.

I run the dishwasher before it is all the way full.

I get creeped out by every little noise I hear at night.

I wake up when your alarm is supposed to go off.

I eat ice cream out of the carton.

I miss you so very much.

I am not quite my whole self.