The laundry...where do I get started, but the fact that it piles up and I wash it and fold it and....try to put it away means that my position is secure. The reality of five hungry people looking up with expectant and all but demanding eyes lets me know that not everyone could fill this place I hold with ease, or at any rate not with as much love. Sometimes I have the irrational desire to kick the laundry basket and look with distaste at those articles of clothing that I have folded dozens and dozens of times. And lets be real here, I have been known to cry a little at the sheer quantity, but on the other hand, after doing it for years and years, I would be sad to do it no more. Right now chores are a large part of life. Oh those words "right now", what a harsh implication.
As I sit in the silence of the night time, devoid of little children noises that is, I listen to the best of my old faves, Roy Orbison, Gordon Lightfoot and the like. I am neither high tec enough to do a picture montage with music but in my memory photos are sliding through my brain right along with the music of "Love Hurts".
The first glimpse I had of my daughter, to her first smiles and words and steps. From her little girl prattle about animals and cookies and snow to her telling me today in her nine year old voice (talking about some girls at dance) that, "No offense to them, but they don't dance like they enjoy it" and my heart hurt because I could hear someone else in those words, not my little girl and we had a heart to heart about what it means to gossip and what to do when those around you are talking behind someone's back, even if it is prefaced with "No offense to them". I remember joking with my sisters about how you can say anything about anyone anymore if you start with "bless her heart...".
I see my baby girl sitting and doing her school with her side braid that she herself braided falling over her shoulder. She looks so beautiful and so big and my heart hurts so bad. I remember not too long ago when she would cry in her bed if I was not home to braid her hair. A lot of pictures. A lot of magic moments.
Oh I know the overall feeling of this blog lately is "treasure the moments" and all that. Well so what, it's what I write about when I feel the urge to write at all and it reminds me that this time in life is short though it feels so repetitive, and it helps me treasure the time when my children are small and incredibly needy...and hungry all the stinkin time... and enjoy it all.
Now, after my kids go to bed, I put on my extra thick industrial blue rubber gloves that literally can take as much hot water as I want to wash dishes with, and hit the dishes, the counters, the table, the floors, the spattered walls and what not with a pep in my step that makes me think, I actually enjoy it. The good and necessary acts of service should be cathartic to our souls. I just think there is so much pressure to do important things in this fast paced life that we forget the small things that carry value. Real life is a lot like this picture: imperfect, organic, revealing, frustrating, a little blah, filled with energy and personality, likely to make you laugh....later on but not always in the moment.
In the words of Gordon Lightfoot:
"...and when you hold me tight, how could life be anything but beautiful.
I think that I was made for you and you were made for me."
And in the words of Roy Orbison:
"Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and mars"
And in the words of the Coasters:
"You better mop that kitchen floor, or you ain't gonna rock and roll no more.."
The everyday chores, I think I'm starting to embrace them. AT least more than I used to.
Good, I'm finally growing up. "Keep teaching me kids, Mama's going to get it eventually".
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