In the Trenches

I was thinking about the kind of mother I have. Her house is immaculate, a vision of interior decorating in Old World style. She could take a sage green room, add animal prints to it, a purple tulip arrangement and everhting pops. She has a closet with 10different sets (maybe more) of dishes that she can mix or match with to make first rate table setting fit for royalty. She could make plain old macaroni and cheese and it was the best tasting macaroni and cheese I've ever tasted. Her dogs obeyed her. She could go shopping and find the best bargin, the last set, or the one piece of something that ties her whole house together. There are no smears or fingerprints on anything. There is no dust (but this is because she hires my sister to wash the 5,458pieces of glass in her cabinets and rooms every month). Your shoes would never stick to the floor in her house. You might slip, but you would not stick. Her laundry is timed perfectly and I think it's been years since I have seen her iron a garment.

*Sigh*. My house: I try to do the same flower arrangement with red tulips instead of the purple and it just looks cheap. You would stick to my floor thanks to my two year old spilling apple juice four times today on my floor. My macaroni and cheese comes out watery or tasteless or too salty. My dishes are all plastic, and of various colors. I don't think I have any more matching cups, but the high quality set of plastic dishes goes well with the 6 foot plastic table I bought thinking this couldn't get tore up like my wooden set. I was wrong. My children have written all their names on the table in various colors of crayon. I hang pictures: they are crooked. I hang more pictures: they don't go together. I go shopping and nothing is on sale. I am down to one piece of glass in my house on display. And I caught Simeon fingering it today. Of everything he could touch, he chose THAT. There is a thin layer of crumbs everywhere I look. No movies can be watched unless we scrub all the sticky fingerprints off first. My laundry pile is never ending (we have 15-20 loads a week) and most of my stuff must be ironed before I wear it.

I know that one day my home may look like my mother's. I won't have sticky finger prints everywhere, my floors will shine and be death traps in the right kind of weather, my table can be set for two with crystal goblets and fine china. My bedroom will be like a sanctuary, maybe look like something out of the quaint bed and breakfasts.

But I was reminded this week of how fast this time will go and that I will one day miss all these things that scream "Small Children At Large". Tonight, I'm not so sure I'll be exactly sad when the day arrives and my house is clean and stays that way. I have no more energy to mop my floor tonight, so that will just have to wait till tomorrow. My shoes may stick, my bed has crumbs in it, and downstairs smells like a wet dog even though we don't have one, but it's quiet right now and all the kids are asleep. Praise all that is good and holy!