Dobrindts Dot Com

Mark Twain once said "I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead". I think that is my problem with these silly little blogs. Some stories deserve a lot of space but for the most part, my life is filled with short blurbs. So here is one.

Starting last Thursday until this past Monday, that is 4 full days, I was without the kids or Patti. I was home alone by myself. Alone. That might not mean much to a lot of people, but for those who have three little kids in a small house, it's huge. Both my and Patti's parents came to visit two weekends ago for Emily's dance recital, and Patti's mother took Emily home on Sunday. The following Thursday Patti drove down with the boys to get her, and stayed for a long weekend.

It was strange. I got stuff done around the house. I worked at home without interruption, I watched TV in the morning that did not consist of cartoons. The house stayed neat and picked up. I read the paper cover to cover and had a quiet house. I went out all day Saturday because it poured and I spent guilt free time with friends. But in the end, it was quiet and it felt empty. As much as I complain about the three little monsters running around the house, they provide the things that make my life more full. They provide the fullness stuff along with shouting, crying, disobedience, more crying and shouting, breaking things, complaining, not eating, throwing stuff, general frustration to the point of wanting to hit my head against the wall, sleepless nights that end with one, two or three little kids in bed with us, dirty diapers, baths that end with more water outside the tub than in and sand from the sandbox everywhere in the yard but IN THE DAMN BOX. But fullness.

So not exactly short, but shorter than usual.