serenity

Everyone is napping. (except me) The house is still and quiet. No kiddie feet padding on the hardwood floor. No excited squeals, or annoyed squeals. No toys clicking, chirping, singing or rolling across the floor. No crying or whining or screaming. No tv, no radio, no "farmer in the dell" playing over and over again. Just the sound of Andrew breathing, but somehow-that is a quiet sound too. Even Moriah is quiet, she must be sleeping. No washer, dryer or dishwasher noises. No air conditioner. I can't remember the last time the house was this quiet. I don't think I like it. I can't imagine living here, like this. I miss the kids, even though they are only sleeping. I miss the commotion. I miss Madison's conversational babble. I miss the business and bustle. I don't miss the crying. I miss their presence. I'll be relieved when the naps are over. When my home is alive, that is where I find my peace.

But, I should probably grab a shower.