So, I am sitting here over my morning cup of coffee, surveying the damage. What damage, you ask? A path of destruction has been woven throughout my humble 3-bedroom ranch. A quick glance would tell you a pack of slobs lives here. But a closer look would tell you a thing or two about who lives here.
The markers all over the little blue table tell you a creative little girl who love to draw lives here. At first her room looks messy, but a closer look shows pretty necklaces draped over a Barbie...a beanie baby nestled in a "bed" (a bowl lined with a washcloth), treasures everywhere that mean the world to this child.
The Little People, matchbox cars, and puzzle pieces in the family room tell you another little girl with an imagination twice her size lives here. She make take out every toy we own, but she plays with them earnestly and about as thoroughly as a child can.
There's a trumpet case in my dining room...our family musician.
My yarn bag by the back door....someone who hates to have idle hands.
So, even though my initial thought this morning was something along the lines of "What the...?" When I take a step back and look at it again, I am humbled somewhat. No, I won't be all cheerful all the time gradually making the house look presentable again...but I certainly won't be a grumpy martyr about it, either. I'll make the beds, vacuum, dust, wipe down counters and all that needs to be done. But the pretty jewelry will stay draped where Jessie put it and I'll step over and around the Little People. I have to remind myself I always wanted my home to be welcoming, but to also look like a family lived in it.
And thank goodness they do.
Showing posts with label graditude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label graditude. Show all posts
