She stood at the refrigerator with the door open, staring. A lack of interest, and little success with cooking, left her inept in the kitchen. She stared past the jar of pickles, the hummus that someone had eaten partially with their fingers, the half consumed pb&j sandwich, and the well-stocked-with-beer bottom shelf. Nothing came to her mind. Not just about what to make. Nothing at all could fit in her head that pounded and was too full of thoughts and to-do's. She shut the door and sighed. A small child banshee screamed and careened at her, a small plastic chair flew across the dirty linoleum floor and bounced off of her legs. She closed her eyes and promised she wouldn't yell because she was better than that. She'd promised herself she would not take her tiredness and stress out on her children. She opened her mouth and shouted: "Knock it off! You- put that chair back in your room. You- stop screaming. Stop. Stop. Stop. I am tired and I had a long day and Mo...