Sometimes I catch myself remembering the days when this house was filled to rafters with kids. Sometimes I miss those days like the ache of a missing limb. I miss the days of, wooden train sets, American Girl dolls, Barbies, Rescue Heroes, and yes, hunting down ponytail holders, I remember this day as if it were yesterday.

One would think, nay, even assume, that in an abode that houses 4 girls, that a person could easily and readily lay hands on a ponytail holder! But no. Not in this house. Not this person.

Last night as I was quickly trying to sweep my 4 inches of overgrown gray and 2 inches of split fried ends into some semblance of a festive coif, I found myself in need of two ponytail holders. I began my unhurried search in the bathroom drawers where such items are kept. Empty, save for some stray hairs from someone's last good brushing. Moving on, I searched all of the girls dresser tops and window ledges next to their beds. A sure bet, as they all remove them before crawling into bed. Empty, but for a thin layer of dust, a fuzzy reminder that I have fallen off of my cleaning schedule. Next I moved on to the couch cushions. Everything gets dropped into this abyss, and while cleaning I often find a treasure trove of them here. Empty again. I did find $3.37 in change though!

At this point I was getting a wee tad frantic, as my ride was coming shortly. I was also beginning to feel just the very tiniest bit of panic sweating beginning. Not a good thing to happen with my freshly pancaked and painted face. I rifled through backpacks, old purses, junk drawers, and jewelry boxes! ZILCH, NOTHING, NADA!

I began to miss the days of Barbies and Barbie cases, whose very existence I cursed during the time they were here, and whose exit I celebrated grandly when the last blond diva with too tiny shoes was finally gone. Barbies always had extra pony tail holders in their hair. Or being utilized to festoon their long ball gowns into skimpy club attire.

You know how it is when you can't find something that you want.? How somewhere during the hunt that item suddenly becomes a life necessity right up there with food, water and shelter? This is where my need for the aforementioned hair ties had transitioned.

In a last ditch effort before I moved on to plan B, which may have included kitchen shears and a bowl, I went into the lone boys room. The only person in our house without enough hair to use an elastic band. I dumped out his ginormous bucket of wooden trains, and frantically sifted through the rubble. In a house with 4 teenage girls, I find it curious that the place I scavenged up not one, not two, but three ponytail holders, was the 7 year old boys room. The seven year old boy with a BUZZ CUT no less!

You see, this estrogen overpowered kid is the MacGyver of trains. While trying to load logs and steal on flat beds, he was having difficulty keeping his stacked product on the cars. He needed "ratcheted tie downs." to hold his loads. His mother told him they didn't make them for wooden toy trains, and he would have to just put fewer logs (crayons) on so that they would stay. Not an option for this train savant. I remember the day he took me by the hand to show me his solution. "See those loads mom?" he said. "Ponytailers work just like bungees...now I'm all set to go eastbound to Chicago!

This weekend the house will be full again, with most of the children who filled it while growing up. I am looking forward to their laughter, and

talking and sharing some of those memories over bowls of cookie dough and ice cream. We may even pull out some of those toys from years past, that survived the culling, and perhaps discover that now, the boy can actually use a ponytail holder, in his quest to achieve a man bun. Hopefully this will be enough to fill the ache that sometimes begins when I dwell too long on those days that are past.