I have no witty remarks on life or sentimental remembrances about my small children.
All that adds up to less blogging.
Why is that?
Is it because something is wrong with me? Am I upset about something? Bored with something?
No, I don't think so. Perhaps it is because life is not a 30-minute sitcom once a week.
Things have been good/normal. I can't complain. It's my favorite time of the year and a runny nose, whining, and terrible-two-tantrums are pretty much the worst of it in my daily life.
That's probably better than good/normal...
I still self-medicate with chocolate on the whinier days.
Sometimes I even take it a little too far. (If you have never tried peppermint bark, do yourself a favor and DON'T! It is highly addictive-- at least for me.)
I am here at my computer in my warm, quiet house, toddler napping and in between loads of laundry -- and it is mildly unnerving. I thought I sought quiet more than anything. PEACE was so important.
But now that I have two healthy boisterous children, I find that commotion is more befitting to an interesting life.
BigBoy is at school and I miss him. (Am I really saying this?)
I miss his incessant talking and slamming the gate on his door too loud and forgetting his lunch box.
I also miss his soft cheek, spontaneous sweet comments, and never-ending affection.
BabyCakes is asleep and I miss her.
I miss her screeches and increasingly-difficult-to-detangle hair and her talent for making everything messy, even when you didn't think it was possible.
I also miss her puffy-cheeked kisses, butt-naked running around the house like a crazy woman, and laying her head on my chest while sucking her thumb when she is tired.
Maybe I am just hormonal today. I am not describing anything unique to me or my own children. Most days I look forward to and lovingly bathe myself in the rare quiet of this house.
Funny how it takes a moment of quiet to realize you miss the commotion.
"Screech! Mommy! Crash! Bang! Louder screech!"
BabyCakes is up. Where'd I put that chocolate?