The house is ghostly quiet, and I am having momma guilt. This is because I am getting what I wished ( and even prayed ) for many , many times this weekend.
It has been a weekend of boys. No less than 3, and up to 7 , eleven and twelve year olds at my house all weekend. Throw into that mix the Cree princess who can turn into a banshee warrior and it's been a loud weekend. Keeping up with the two hour feeding schedule was manageable , as I had spent 200.00 at Costco on Thursday in anticipation of this invasion. The dishwasher, washer and dryer were going non stop all weekend, at my insistance , not theirs. They would have worn the same clothes all weekend.
Anyway, back to my wish. What I wished for at about hour six was quiet. There was not one room in my house that was free of noise. Echoes of laughter. and feet pounding down stairs. Hockey sticks on cement and hardwood. Burps, belches and other bodily noises that impressed the heck out of my granddaughter, and made me leave the room. Vibrating walls , and singing(?) in the shower at 5:30am. Jokes at the dining table, milk out of noses, the spills and the elbows.
And I wished for quiet.
My little guy sits on the couch, having been ordered to be a couch potato until he sees the eye specialist and I already miss the noise. Then I remind myself of the noise and I don't miss it. Then I feel guilty. It doesn't make sense. it doesn't have to. It's momma guilt.