The kids have been out of sight for about 40 minutes. I think they're all somewhere within this house, and I think I could even guess which room within this house.
Should I be concerned?
Well, I'm not.
At least I wasn't concerned until I started to hear their raised voices from two floor-levels away. [Is that the correct way to express that I believe they are in the attic bedroom and I am on the ground floor? Well, I don't think I will change it anyway.]
So. The kids are out of sight. Let me talk about something else, something not mama-related.
The dryer just buzzed.
I would come up with another conversation, but you see, I still hear that shouting from the attic. It's not pleasant, but I still am not going to go investigate. I am going to take advantage of the approximately 35 seconds I have before someone - probably a younger sister - comes tattling to me with tears streaming down cheeks. Within those 35 seconds, I hope to pull together one cognizant, non-mama thought.
[That's the way I spell the humming noise I make in my head when I am thinking.]
[Or when I'm trying to think. It's a coping mechanism to bust through Thinkers Block.]
[The three M's are important.]
[It's not working.]
I think I need to go make bread. Or dinner rolls. Or something that requires the oven. I guess I could make dinner? Yep. Forget this solitude. I am going to go do something that requires less thinking. I was having a little trouble with that occupation anyway.