Perhaps it’s happened to you, that moment in your life where you find yourself saying, “Oh my goodness! I’ve become my mother!”
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. And by no means was she a bad mother; after all, she raised 3 children to be contributing members of society. But those moments always catch me off guard.
When the constant clutter starts to get to me; when all I can see is the mess and not the two happy kids begging me to play… When I find myself taking the dirty dishes out of the dishwasher so I can put them in the “right” way… Those are the moments.
You see, my mother is one of those people who can fold a fitted sheet and make it so crisp it could be put on the store shelf. Seriously. Not only that, but once when she was visiting she actually took the sheet I had just folded and then refolded it.
I can remember playing with my sister when I was younger, but I can’t for the life of me remember playing anything with my mother, except board games and puzzles. My sister is 7 years older than I am, certainly when she was at school during the day there had to be a time when my mother played with me. But I don’t remember.
What I do remember is the house was always clean.
The laundry was always folded as soon as it was taken out of the dryer. I remember helping sort the fresh, hot socks, learning to fold the underwear just right.
The kitchen floor was swept daily, mopped once a week, and waxed. Waxed! (I’m sure my mom cringes when she sees the dog hair that seems to forever be on my kitchen floor, no matter how often it is swept.)
Indeed, when my parents are coming up to visit, I spend the hour and fifteen minutes it takes them to travel up to our house scrambling to try to clear the clutter off the kitchen table, run the vacuum, sweep the kitchen floor and pick up a hundred or so miscellaneous toys and clothing items.
So, why is this on my mind right now?
Lately I’ve realized that while we’ve done plenty of crafting lately, and plenty of preschool stuff, it’s the princess dolls, Polly Pockets, and superheroes, that I’ve been neglecting. Ten years from now I want my little ones to remember Mommy on the floor, playing with them.
I want those memories, too.