My house is rarely picture-perfect. Even after an afternoon of cleaning I can still find a dust bunny hiding behind the door and some stray toys underneath the couch. Even after a whole day of doing laundry there are still stragglers at the bottom of the hamper and a couple of clean baskets that still need to be folded and put away. And my kitchen table is rarely ever uncluttered.
But sometimes ... sometimes my house is even less than picture-perfect. Sometimes I look around and wonder who came into our house, emptied all the closets and drawers, and scattered all the contents across every surface everywhere. Seriously ... who?
But, for some reason, even if my house is in complete shambles, I feel a little bit better as long as the beds are made. It's not terribly logical, but if the beds are made it just makes me feel like, no matter what shape the rest of the house is in, I have some part of my life together. Is anyone with me?
The problem is, no one else who lives in my house shares this sentiment. Like, really. At all.
My husband takes a nap almost every day so that he can still have enough brainpower to study in the evening/night after starting his day at 4:45 am. Verdict: bed unmade.
Micah's favorite activities as of late include playing hide and seek in Mommy and Daddy's bed, complete with throwing the half-dozen decorative pillows in as many different directions as he can, and "resting" in Mommy and Daddy's bed while he watches a show or two
A couple of weeks ago I was so completely annoyed that I was making the bed for the fourteenth time that day, a thing which had also happened every other day that week. Not long after I finished fluffing the pillows Micah came into my room. "I hide in Mommy's bed?" He asked this, of course, as he was climbing onto the neatly smoothed duvet. I felt the annoyance rise up inside me. "No! Mommy just ..." But in that moment, I saw his sweet face. I saw how excited he was to hide under my pillows and blankets and have me find him and tickle and kiss him once I did. And I didn't have the heart to break his. So I threw the decorative pillows off the bed and jumped onto the now wrinkled duvet and spent some time laughing and playing with my sweet boy who will be all growed up before I know it.
And as for Josh, I know he needs those naps. I know he is completely mentally exhausted at the end of every day and needs rest. And so I tell him to rest well and close the door gently, choosing to ignore the fact that blankets are hanging halfway down the bed frame.
Grace. I'm certainly no expert, but I know enough to know that sometimes there are things a lot more important than a pristinely made bed (although I'm having trouble recalling any at the moment ;). But really, my husband's well-being, my son's lightheartedness - why should I allow one strange preference to forbid those things? They are infinitely more important.
I'm still working on this one. And about a million others. But I think I'm making progress.
Currently my bed remains unmade from the nap Josh took over five hours ago.
Go me ;)
Ok, I can't be the only one! What's your "thing" that you really have to keep in check and choose grace over white-knuckle control?