The Touch of Home

There is something about the first few nights in a new house...  


My favorite sound:


The dishwasher running.  Our new one is evidently made for elves, but no matter.  It purrs like a kitten and I love the sound it makes when the kids go to bed and it's humming in the background.  I really don't know why I love that sound the way I do, it's not even that I hate doing dishes by hand.  I even have a thing for Dawn soap.  I use it whenever I get the chance.  I would totally take a bubble bath in that blue, bubbly stuff.  What is it about a dishwasher though and that sound?  It sounds like security to me.  I know.  Weird.  


My favorite smell:


Popcorn mingling with hot cocoa and stinky kid feet as we all cuddle on the couch together and watch a movie.  I don't even like popcorn or hot cocoa but I do love my kid's stinky feet.


My favorite sight:


Anna's hair all bundled up on the top of her head, Cora's long legs stretched out over way more than her fair share of the couch, and Gianni passed out halfway through Mars Needs Moms, his sticky hands dangling over the side where Milo lays, licking the butter off his fingertips, my hands anchored on his little butt to keep him from falling off, his Buddha belly sticking out from his muscle shirt.


My favorite touch:


My feet on Hubby's lap.


Actually, my feet (one foot, I exaggerate) hurt.  I dropped a rather large picture frame and it stabbed me right on top of my Hobbit foot.  Now I have a crater on it and it hurts like the dickens.  I don't know how I will skip and frolic and chasse and leap and pirouette with dem ballerina babies tomorrow.  I'll have to distract them with fairy wands and flower crowns so they don't mutiny.


My favorite idea:


That we are all together again, all five of us, whole and happy, broke but fed, missing our five boys and Marie, tired but blessed; broken picture frames, sore feet and all.