Quiet Time

There was a time in my life when I had quiet time. Any time I wanted, really.

But, like good health or good internet reception, you don’t appreciate it until you don’t have it.

Especially at night.

If this was 3 years ago, if I had some free time, I would’ve likely had the TV blaring with the sound of exploding bombs shaking my entire house. Or I would be playing a game, the sound  of exploding bombs shaking my entire house.

I know, sort of a theme there.

Now, with the boys, quiet time is something so precious, I have to write about it.

It does happen. Certainly after they go to bed, there’s a hush in the house that’s almost loud. You can hear the furnace, the dog licking something (I’m often too scared to look), or the neighbours having crazy sex (or just jumping on a mattress, we’re still not sure.)

But, usually, after the boys go to bed, that’s our time. Just the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world and me. Just the two of us.

Sometimes in bed, sometimes in the dark, talking about our day or our plans or our lives.

It’s not ‘technically’ quiet time. More like reconnection time. Or couple time.

Real quiet time, though, actually happened today. At 7:05.

I was able to sit in the family room, in the dark, alone. No computers plugged in, no TV on, no games on pause. Just silence.

In the kitchen, the boys were busy playing their games. They were oddly silent, not yelling at the screen or at someone who has just sacked their lvl 6 town hall and taken all their dark elixir.

They weren’t trying to bug each other or see who could fart the loudest. They were simply absorbed in their games.

I can’t honestly explain why they were so quiet. Usually when this happens, I rush to wherever they are to see what horrible things they’ve done.

But not this time.

Everyone was mellow-yellow. Even the spazadoodle.

So I took my quiet time, wrapped it around me, and had a moment all to myself. I have time in the day to do this, sure, but at night, it’s something super awesome. Something super peaceful.

And you know what?

It may be the greatest gift this family has given me – An appreciation for the simpler things in life.

Now where did I put that wine?