Although I haven’t touched them for nearly two years, I am a scrapbooker. Once I began teaching, I just haven’t been able to save any mental space for working on my books. I’ll get back to them some day. But this was a quote I put in one of the early books for my kids:
“You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.”
This is from a poem by Anne Campbell. It speaks to me.
Motherhood, it seems, is all about sacrifice. Of course there are benefits, but often those don’t come until later. My friend Judy posted a poignant blog about the gifts her children have given her (read it here). I agree with every one of her points, although my life looks vastly different from hers. My kids are all still at home. Every day there is something that goes on that means I have to give up something that I would rather be doing. And yet, in raising my kids, there really is nothing that I would rather be doing.
Do I enjoy the silence in the house when they’re all off to school? Yes. But if the continued silence means I didn’t have the kids, I far prefer the chaos.
Do I wish that for even a day the house could stay clean? Yes. But if cleanliness meant my house was empty, then what’s a few dust bunnies? (OK, more than a few.)
Would I like to look out on a pristine yard? Who wouldn’t? But if nice grass meant no wild sword fights or games of fetch with the dog, then I welcome the lived-in look of the warn path the dog has made madly chasing his beloved ball.
My friend Ronnie once told me a house should be clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy. I have taken that on as my personal slogan.
But I’m still looking forward to that steak dinner promised to me tomorrow.
Thankful today for:
270. the gift of See’s chocolate from my friend Lynn
271. waking up early on a day I could have slept in
272. 12 more days of school
273. a great first year of high school for my eldest
274. the cardinal couple that occasionally flits through our yard
275. that the alligators decide to wait until after our day in the lake to make their appearance
276. the pitter patter of little feet (and some not so little anymore)
277. family prayer