Mommy's Away and the House Is Probably Having More Fun

If you've ever told yourself, "I'd do anything for one quiet night alone," be careful what you wish for.

After months of solo parenting through deployment, I found myself packing a carry-on for a work trip. Just a few nights away. A hotel room. No bedtime battles. No requests for snacks five minutes after dinner. No one climbing into my lap while I tried to answer emails.

Just me.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't responsible for three little humans every second of the day.

I should have been thrilled.

Instead, somewhere between the airport security line and my first cup of coffee alone, I started missing them.

The noise.

The interruptions.

The constant chorus of "Mom! Mom! Mom!"

The things I spend most days wishing would quiet down.

Funny how that works.

When you're in the thick of motherhood, especially during deployment, the days can feel impossibly long. Every task belongs to you. Every decision lands on your shoulders. Every middle-of-the-night wake-up, every forgotten water bottle, every scraped knee.

You dream about silence.

Then you finally get it.

And suddenly the silence feels... strange.

My hotel room stayed exactly how I left it. No tiny shoes scattered across the floor. No stuffed animals tucked under blankets. No mysterious sticky fingerprints appearing on every surface.

The bed remained made.

No one needed me.

And while part of me enjoyed every uninterrupted minute, another part of me kept reaching for my phone to look at pictures from home.

Because the truth is, somewhere in all the chaos, they've become my favorite part of the day.

Of course, there was also the guilt.

The guilt of knowing Grandma was now carrying the load I'd been carrying alone for months…

The guilt of leaving three children under four while Dad is deployed and life already feels complicated enough….

I knew they were safe. Loved. Spoiled, even.

Grandma was sending pictures of adventures, treats, and smiles that assured me everyone was surviving just fine.

Maybe a little too fine.

Meanwhile, I was sitting in a quiet restaurant eating alone, sipping coffee that was still warm. And, while I was absolutely enjoing the peace of having a meal without tiny fingers pulling at bites to taste it too, or mini-me’s climbing into my lap, I also missed the fullness that the kiddos bring.

The silence, while I crave it, feels odd when actually granted.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

How we can be simultaneously exhausted and grateful.

Overstimulated and lonely.

Desperate for a break and counting down until we're reunited.

This trip reminded me that missing my children doesn't mean I don't need rest.

And enjoying a break doesn't mean I love them any less.

It simply means I'm human.

I’m mom.

One who loves the little life we've built, even when it's loud and messy and overwhelming.

Especially then.

So tonight, I'll enjoy the quiet.

I'll finish my coffee while it's still hot.

I'll sleep diagonally across a bed if I want to.

And tomorrow, I'll head home to the toys on the floor, the endless questions, the sibling squabbles, and the tiny arms wrapping around my legs.

Back to the beautiful chaos.

The chaos I spend so much time trying to survive.

And somehow, the chaos I miss the moment it's gone.

I’m quickly learning that the very things that wear us out are often the same things that fill our hearts.

And, realizing that even when we finally get the quiet we thought we wanted, home still sounds a whole lot better.