This weekend was quiet, too quiet. And slow. Under some circumstances, some people may have described it as relaxing. I will call it boring.
Tom and Gus went off on a weekend long bachelor party fishing trip. The fact that my seven year old son has already been invited to bachelor parties is fodder for another rant. My mom and sisters were off on the corresponding bachelorette party. Sena spent hours upon hours locked away in her room with her newly minted best friend. My dad was at a golf tournament. Arlo and I were left alone.
And man, were we bored. Arlo is good company, don't get me wrong. I can usually get him to laugh at my jokes, he generally enjoys my cooking, and he's happy to cuddle with me while I watch episode after episode of Friday Night Lights. But he doesn't offer much in the way of conversation. After two days with only occasional interruptions by Sena and her friend for food, Arlo and I were starved for stimuli.
I need my people around me. I need the house to be loud and lively. I need family streaming in and out, borrowing something, giving something, opening the fridge to see if there's anything to eat. Although sometimes I complain when they leave their dirty dishes on the coffee table and kitchen counters, I much prefer picking up after them to meandering through my days and hours without all of my people near by.
I felt so much better once everyone had returned home; I felt my energy return. I felt better after feeding them all leftover beef stew and apple cobbler. I felt better once I could hear all my kids out on the street riding scooters with the neighbors while Tom blew leaves across the yard. I felt better once I know I wasn't alone anymore.