I have a still and silent moment before this week begins. The girls are in bed, the house is clean and my refrigerator is not making that strange, knocking sound indicating it's rapidly approaching death. All I can hear is the clock ticking and some small snoring noises from the bedroom.
I remember when I had my first child and I stayed at home with her. I lived in an unfamiliar town and my husband worked nights so he slept all day. Before I had my baby I had worked and was so busy all the time that I was anxious for some peace and quiet. After about three months, the baby and I started to settle into a sleeping routine. It was then that the solitude I craved would stare at me like an old cat in the corner while the clock (the same clock I have now) went tick, tick, tick. Our house was small and so it was easy to clean and making meals for two was pretty quick. I didn't know what to do with the time while my baby napped. I would dream of the day when that old cat would be chased away by a house full of noisy toddlers.
Now that cat only creeps in once in a while and I welcome him to sit on my lap and stay a moment before the stomping, clomping, laughing and yelling of my children chase him away.