Last week, my boys went to spend some time with their grandparents. We had Little Meems to ourselves for a whole week, and while she enjoyed the one-on-one time (who doesn't occasionally?) she was quickly bored and lonely. Middle child syndrome -- they don't know how to be alone. Or rather, they don't like to be alone. We did mani/pedis, went to dinner, daddy/daughter dates, sleepovers, and finally a canoe trip down the river. It was lovely.
On Sunday, we brought the boys home. As I sat in the car, I listened to the three of them chit chat. I listened to them fuss at each other. I listened to them playing car games and seeing who could hold onto the overhead bar the longest. I listened to them extolling the virtues of Ice flavored water, declaring it "delicious," and "extra yummy" and "so refreshing!" I marveled at how something as simple as fancy flavored sparkling water could bring such a thrill. It reminded me how innocent they all are. How little, really. Babies. My babies.
As I woke up on Monday, the house felt different to me. Full. Warm. Bustling. Too noisy for being so early in the morning.
And I realized with a smile that all was right again in my world. That my universe had come back into balance. My cup was again full.
And that made it a happy Monday.