One is the lonliest number

So my girls come home today from a week of being spoiled by their grandparents in Florida. I can already hear the arguments in the coming days, "Why can't we have french fries every night?" or "It's not even nine o'clock. What do you mean 'Time for bed?' " And while I have enjoyed the time alone with my little guy, I have to say I am looking forward to the return of chaos to my household. It has been too damn quiet and, dare I say, boring.

Now don't get me wrong. My son is hilarious. His love for wearing my giant, Elton John-esque sunglasses for fifteen minute blocks of time is quite entertaining and watching him continue his mad love affair with with the printer as I write really makes me laugh, but as for interesting conversation? Not so much. OK, I'll say it. Being home with a baby can be kind of boring. Sure, it's nice to be able to put on the Today show and watch it in its entirety without having to justify it's superiority to a four year old looking for some Charlie and Lola and being able to compose a list of household tasks for the day and actually get them accomplished is quite satisfying, but on the other hand, there's no one here to tell me apricots look like heinies or ask me to explain wind.

It's also been sort of strange being out of the loop with my other mom friends. While they are still busy dragging their kids to the pool, I've been enjoying the air-conditioned comfort of my home and various centers of commerce since my little guy has no input as to what we do for the day and Mommy hates the heat and what the humidity does to her bangs. He doesn't walk yet so his "exercise" is crawling which is better done across our smooth, hardwood floors than over the splinter-producing mulch of the playground. I remember when my oldest was this age and all of my mom pals and I would try to come up with indoor stuff for them to do since dragging a baby out into the heat to cut up his knees wasn't our idea of a good time. We took a lot of Mommy and Me classes and had a lot of playdates, but since I am the only one of our set with an infant, everyone else is at the park.

The activities my youngest enjoys also aren't that stimulating. After four rounds each of The Wheels on the Bus, The Itsy Bitsy Spider and If You're Happy and You Know It, my performance loses some of its vibrancy. His books have very limited story arcs and arts and crafts are far off in the future for now. With the girls I'm reading Ramona the Pest and preventing them from covering anything that doesn't move with tempera paint. My aunt put it best when she assuaged my guilt by saying, "You're a grown-up. You should be a little worried about your mental state and capacity if you find this stuff riveting."

While I will miss being able to go wherever I want between naps (Mobin, it's back to once a day, my friend) and the dog has dropped some serious poundage with all the walks he's been getting, I welcome the return of noisy, unproductive days (if you call an hour spent finding the missing Snow White Polly Pocket "unproductive") and my two sweet girls. I'm just not myself without them.