The other day, Melody left me a comment about how she needed a break from the laundry. It really got me thinking, especially since it has only been recently that I have felt like I’ve gotten a handle on my laundry. Of course, the only way I can keep ahead of it is by doing it constantly. My laundry basket only leaves the living room for brief trips downstairs to get clean clothes out of the dryer.
As I have pondered over my laundry (about as exciting as meditating over belly button lint, I know), something occurred to me.
Life with small children is like being stuck in an episode of the Teletubbies.
Think about it. You are surrounded by cherubic-faced beings with high-pitched voices who run around making messes and giggling. And everything about your life is summed up with one tiny phrase.
You change a dirty diaper.
You fold laundry.
You wipe mashed banana/spit up/baby snot (who really knows?) off of your shoulder.
You pick up toys.
You make beds, cook meals, mop floors, vacuum carpets, feed pets…
I’m starting to feel like the bug-eyed little vacuum cleaner, chasing the messes and sucking it up.
Just call me Noo-noo.
I live a life full of hopes and dreams. I dream of being the best person I can be. I dream of writing something worthy of being published. I dream of creating an organization to help needy children. I dream of solving world hunger. And then there is that pinnacle–the most unimaginable dream of all.
I dream of someday doing something and (for the love of all things holy!) having it just stay done.
That would be a dream come true.
In case you are wondering, for all of the challenges of motherhood, I am still living my dream. After four years of wondering if I would ever have children, I really wouldn’t trade any part of raising them–even the mind-numbing stuff.