Way back when, way way back, my husband and I went to see the ridiculously funny movie “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” We laughed, hard. In fact, all these years later, we’re still laughing over some of the lines from that classic.

Lately I’ve been particularly drawn to the line, “I got better.” In the movie, the line is said by a peasant who has been clamoring to have a local woman declared a witch. While everyone is yelling about her, he cries out, “She turned me into a newt!” Everyone turns to look at him, standing there in an obviously ‘non-newt’ state. He shrugs and says quietly, “I got better.”

So here I am. Better.

You see, I started this blog way back in 2011, when all three of my beloved children moved out of the house within a few weeks of each other. I was bereft, crushed, inconsolable. I cried myself to sleep for months. If you doubt that, go back and read some of my first posts.

Pathetic.

I missed my children the way you’d miss an amputated limb. I yearned for them. I craved them. I sent wishes to every first star, every birthday candle, every dandelion seed. “Please, oh, powerful universe!” I would lament, “Let me have one night with my three best beloved babies under my roof!”

Oh, the joy of those first few holidays, when I would wake up at 3AM and wander the house, just listening to the sound of their breathing (snoring, but still.)

I was a freakin’ wreck.

But ya know what?

I got better.

And this is how I know.

Yesterday we hosted the family for a triple birthday celebration. Our baby Johnny is turning one year old this week! And Uncle Tim (my ACTUAL baby boy) is turning 26. Papa, my darling husband and the best Dad/Grandfather ever, is turning 62.

So, in spite of the fact that I was wicked, wicked tired, I prepared to host a big family fun day.

I didn’t clean, because my back hurt. I mean….it’s just the kids, right?   I didn’t put toys away because, hey, the grandkids would be here. I didn’t bake a cake. I mean, seriously? Can’t one of the kids make the cake? (They did.)

And I didn’t get up early, even knowing that they were coming. I was tired. I slept. I rested. I waited for them in my pj’s for the most part.

Then, at last, they all arrived! We were so lucky! We had my daughter, our son-in-law and their two incredibly adorable kids. Yes. Yes, I am obsessed with these two.

We also had both of our sons and one ‘if-all-goes-well’ future daughter-in-law. Only one ‘if-all-goes-well’ daughter-in-law was missing. But her band is on tour and I’m a huge fangirl, so…..it was OK.

It was really, really fun! We ate too much, we drank a lot of delicious beverages and we laughed together. As the day went on, and everyone realized that the Celtics would be playing the key game of the season at 8:30, they all decided to sleep here at our house.

My reaction?

“Oh, my GOD! If they all sleep here, I can go to be early with ELLIE!!!!!”

Which I did. We laughed, we giggled, we snuggled, we snored together.

At no time did I wonder where my kids would sleep (they outnumber our available beds). I didn’t tell them how much I loved them. I didn’t make sure they had pillows, or sheets, or blankets, or even beds.

I just grabbed Miss Ellie, and cuddled her until we both fell asleep.

Heaven.

Papa joined us at one point, and so did our puppy, Lennie. Whatevs.

All I remember is feeling Ellie’s arm around my neck, her hand on my cheek, or breath in my hair.

Angels were singing.

We all woke up, had a big breakfast cooked by my son Tim, and sat around sipping coffee and playing with the kids.

It was only late this afternoon, long after everyone had headed home and I had put the house back to the way I like it, when Papa sent me a text from work. “What a great couple of days, huh? When was the last time we had all three of our kids sleeping here at once?”

The fact that I didn’t know how to answer is what lead me to this post.

“I got better.”

And it’s all good!