Half of Us

Your sense of "home" changes to accommodate your situation.   For me, home went from living with my parents to living in a dorm to living on my own with roommates.   Later, I bought a house and my sense of home changed to be "my home," which was an exciting thing—to own my own townhome.   Granted, there was a hefty mortgage associated with it, but it was my home nonetheless.

Years later I got married and my mental picture of home became one that included my husband.   And then sometime later again I added two children to the picture.  My home is now "our home" and is invaded by children daily, visited by family and friends from time to time and is just about the homiest place I can imagine, which is a good thing, because we're not planning on going anywhere any time soon. 

When only part of our family is here, things seem quiet.   Quieter than expected.   If you'd have told me ten years ago I would be fine with eight young children rampaging through the house on a daily basis, I wouldn't have been able to imagine it.   Which is why even though I have a child with me now, the absence of my husband and daughter makes the house seem unnaturally quiet. 

My husband called me this morning and said things were already going really well at Disney with my daughter.   This is good, they had planned out what they thought would be a fun trip for her.

The Big Boy Update:  My son has been pestering me to play Cat Quest 2 for some time now.   I have promised him when this blog post is complete, I will play alongside him on my iPad and see if I can catch up with him.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was saying, "The Magical Kingdom" instead of, "The Magic Kingdom" yesterday.  My husband told her the correct name but she said, "I don't care, I'm still going to call it The Magical Kingdom.   When they walked through the gates this morning she called out, "Yay, we're in The Magical Kingdom"