I love love love to read

I really love to read.

But I have noticed that my children, my husband, my mother and essentially my life is totally against me finding time to read.

Why is that?

I think there is a conspiracy against me.

This is generally how my attempts to read go:

I pick up a book off my huge stack of books I want to read.
I sit down and open the book.
I read 3 words.
My son asks me to get him a snack.
I get my son a snack and return to my chair to read.
I reopen the book and reread the 3 words I read previously and read several paragraphs. I even get to turn the page.
My daughter starts to cry because she tripped over a toy on the messy living room floor which I am diligently avoiding cleaning so I can have time to read.
I comfort my daughter and attempt, once again, to read.
My other son interrupts and asks me to turn on the TV.
I do so without lifting my eyes from my page ... I really love remote controls.
I have now managed to read almost 5 pages.
The phone rings. I have a 20 minute conversation with my husband about our crazy life while tripping over the ignored toys on the floor, sweeping the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and getting juice for my children.
The cat meows to get out so I put a bookmark in my spot and let the darn cat out.
My daughter needs her diaper changed so I do that and go wash my hands and throw out the icky diaper and wonder what I did with my time before having kids.
I manage to sit down once again and read another page and half.
My son brings me one of HIS books to read because it has pictures and mine looks boring and sits on my lap pushing my book onto the floor so I can read HIS book to him.
My book gets shoved under the couch.
I collapse from exhaustion and forget all about the book.

Sad isn't it?

I miss uninterrupted reading. Oh how I love books.