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Mike's been somewhat busy this past weekend leaving me alone with the kids. Normally, not something I have a hard time with or even complain about, but this week I had a touch of insomnia and my Mommy reserves were low. And Maya's need for Mommy was high. Very high. Spider monkey high.

There came a point in the weekend, when Mike was actually home that I couldn't take a minute more of trying to talk over my little darlings. I couldn't have Maya climbing into my lap one more time. So I excused myself to our bedroom with it's brand new door that actually locks. Yes, for almost 13 years of marriage we've been sleeping in a bedroom with nothing more between us and the hallway than a thin bi-fold door.

So I'm upstairs with the door shut and locked lying in our bed -- it would be nice to say I was resting or drinking a glass of wine, but I was actually working on the meal plan/grocery list for the week -- when I hear the pitter patter of little feet on the stairs. Luckily they were Abby's, my child who doesn't have to cling to me. It was entirely possible that was disappearing into her own room for a moment of peace and quiet. But no -- there was a tiny little knock on the door, followed by, -- Mom?

Yeah, honey?

Can I just give you a hug.

So I opened the door and gave her a big hug. She returned an extra little squeeze and whispered she loved me before she headed back downstairs.

It was just the recharge I needed.