Opinion: Home, sweet home


It’s a miracle! I returned home from a professional development weekend to a house and a family which both had their shtick together! Woohoo!

Indeed, this is rarely the case when I go out of town. A typical homecoming is accompanied by some choice vocabulary on my part and a swarm of fruit flies over the kitchen sink. The fridge/pantry will resemble a Walmart on the eve of the apocalypse, and at least one kid will have missed a practice or an appointment. It goes without saying that absolutely no dishes or laundry will have been done and that the possibility of discovering dog poop on some carpeted-portion of the main floor is high.

But when I walked in last night, I was greeted with a “Hi, Mom” and a beautifully uncluttered countertop. The dryer was actually running and there were two, count them two, unexpired gallons of milk just waiting to be enjoyed. My husband Doo reassured me that Tiny Dancer had made it to rehearsals and a scheduled sleepover, and that a son had successfully taken his ACT. Doo had even been in communication with our other daughter who was competing in the color guard nationals in Ohio (point to Doo on that one. I may have forgotten. In my defense, though, I had an entire hotel room, with a king-sized bed, to myself!)

So, instead of me passive-aggressively berating everyone while ridding the dining room table of shoes, backpacks and miscellaneous hair accessories – typically the opening scene of “Mommy’s Home” – I calmly and lovingly greeted my dear family. For once, I was happy to be back. Truly a miracle!

Peace out.