It's a Saturday morning and I am home alone. I know that is probably not something that I should post on the internet, but I am banking on the fact that those of you that know where I live wish me no harm, and those that might wish me harm do not know where I live. I like to live dangerously.
It is a strange thing being home alone on a Saturday morning. I spent much of my adult life awake way earlier than I wished, laying on the couch at oh dark thirty, with my head under a throw pillow while some horrid cartoon kept my wee little children somewhat still and entertained until those of us who are not nocturnal woke up.
But no longer. Now I find myself awake and in a quiet house able to drink my coffee in peace and quiet and have a complete thought. It's quite shocking to the system.
The boys are off being Fireman today. (Good Job, Fireman!), Eve is working at her grandma's house helping her out with some spring cleaning, and Sir D had to go into the office for a few hours and took Ann and Violet the Test Dog with him. (and really, if he's taking Violet to work with him, is it not just semantics to continue to call her the 'Test Dog'?)
So now I find myself in a place I thought I'd never see again. Alone, quiet. peaceful. ahhhhhh.
I know one day they will all move out, I know one day I'll be sad and wish those days of little ones back, but not yet. It's still to fresh in my mind. I'm not so far away from it, that I don't still really appreciate the gift of solitude.
Also, I know what a busy day I have ahead of me. My dearest friend in the whole world's daughter is having her graduation party today. This dear girl and my Will have grown up together. This girl is graduating today, a full semester early and...with her associates degree. Yes, I KNOW! Amazing.
Then we go to my BIL's birthday party. Let's just say those numbers are getting a little bigger than I am comfortable with my peers turning.
Time marching on. It happens in the blink of an eye. One minute they're sitting in front of the TV eating dry froot loops out of a cup and watching 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time, and the next they're out dragging around 100 pound water hoses and putting out fires.
I meant to end with something deeply meaningful and profound but I just realized that I just admitted on the internet that my toddlers ate dry froot loops for breakfast...