Dreamy

If you opened our laptop at any given moment, you would be able to tell exactly who used it last.  If it was Trent, the internet is open to either wood turning videos or some obscure website like homemadecircuitsandschematics.blogspot.com.  It it was me, it’s something with quilts hanging outside or warmly lit photos of half-finished embroidery projects next to a piece of quiche on a nice plate.  It’s a dreamy place where people can edit out the sink full of dishes from making the quiche.

And pan out from the quilt made by my great-grandmother to-

I bribed Tate with a pack of gum to get him to wear a sweater vest.  We stopped on the way to church to buy the gum.  I wouldn’t say I’m proud of that bribe, but I’ll admit I did it.  No regrets, because he now loves the sweater vest.

“Buzz, I’m going through all your private stuff!  You’d better come out and pound me!”

That is what we call the aftermath of Hurricane Holly. 

Yesterday we had someone come by to appraise our house.  Trent forgot to tell me that someone would be coming by, so our house was a disaster.  She, of course, had to take pictures of some rooms.  I was apologetic and embarrassed, but the appraiser assured me that she’d seen much worse.  She has grown children and assured me that these days of little children are messy and beautiful and they go by quickly.  One day, she said, the mess will be gone, but so will the children.

I thought back to my own mom being embarrassed by messes I made when I was growing up, probably getting a nice warm feeling somewhere as I got a taste of my own medicine.  I thought of all the other places I lived before I had children and what my closet looks like right now.  One day my children will be gone, but the mess…that will probably still be here.  What my children will take with them is my good excuse.