Sitting in her minivan in the grocery store parking lot, she felt anchored to the drivers seat. She knew she had to muster the will to go inside. Her to-do list has no bottom. But right now? She was just going to sit there, all alone in deafening but glorious silence. How long could I sit here, she wondered, without rousing suspicion about what’s taking her so long to get back home.

Meanwhile, her otherwise capable husband is probably overwhelmed. The kids are probably bickering. Everyone is probably getting hungry. His patience is wearing thin. She knows she will return to a house probably tense with unmet expectations.

She will probably hear, “I’m hungry,” before she even gets the first load of grocery bags into the house. It usually takes 4 trips from the van to the house to unload the volume of food it takes to feed this family.

When she was younger, she had romantic ideas about what motherhood would look like. This isn’t that. No one sees past the Pampers commercials, with quiet, sleeping, sweet smelling babies, when they pine for those two pink lines. Before you actually have kids, when the babies are abstract achievements to mark progress in adulting, you fantasize about adorable onesies with funny sayings and becoming the kind of mom who makes her own organic baby food. There are so many accessories for new moms. Where are the fun accessories for moms of kids old enough to talk to back but young enough to still want hugs?

She felt like an asshole. She wanted this life, hadn’t she? She wanted the husband and the kids and even the minivan. She got all of it. And now, she just needed a break. This grocery store parking lot, with the warmth of the sun permeating through the windshield, is the only break she’ll get today, until the kids are in bed for the night.