Written by Malinda Just Tuesday, 18 January 2011 15:59
I tend to start each new year with high expectations. I want all the resolution-type things—although I rarely go so far as to actually write down my resolutions. I just think about them. A lot.
For this year, I want my household to be more organized—as in, finding specific places for all the new Christmas gifts our family received. It can be a bit overwhelming when we head to a gathering with unopened gifts in tow for other family members, only to find our load has grown three-fold (or more) by the time we return home. And we still have two Christmas gatherings to go.
I want to develop a chore schedule and actually stick to it. I have great intentions for this one. With a mental image of a happy, safe and clean home for my family constantly surfacing, I tend to find myself wallowing in a puddle of guilt and remorse when I look at my (in-law’s) house cluttered with toys, laundry and the occassional crunched Cheerio.
I want to add more educational activities into my daughters’ daily routines. We have all kinds of puzzles, coloring books and art supplies packed away in boxes. A lot of good that does. So I know if I can (A) organize my household (i.e. find a storage system that works), and (B) develop a chore schedule, it would seem logical that I would have more time in my day for constructive learning opportunities.
I want to eat better, lose weight, blah, blah, blah….
Despite the good intentions, though, life has remained rather mundane in 2011. So far, we continue to live out of boxes, toys still clutter the floor, laundry awaits (constantly, I might add), and learning how to properly blow a nose is the reigning king of education.
But don’t feel too bad for me. I have an excuse—for now, that is.
You see, we don’t actually have a house to call home. Yet. My dear in-laws have been gracious over the last two months to let our family live with them while we wait for our next house to be move-in ready. So that explains living out of boxes.
Having two mobile daughters gives you a hint as to why I have toys littering the floor. My youngest started crawling shortly after she turned 6 months, and now, at 8 months, she’s hard to keep up with. Especially when she races for the fireplace—her newfound favorite “toy.”
And without any completely healthy days since Christmas, is it any wonder that Curious George and Word World fill some potential educational time slots?
And don’t get me started about my remaining baby weight.
But then I got news that put the mundane into perspective. A few days ago, my husband and I found out that a dear friend of ours from Tabor College is fighting an aggressive form of cancer at age 28. That news really rocked my world.
And it makes me thankful for the stomach flu and the nose-wiping. At least we aren’t in the ICU with failing kidneys.
It makes me thankful for the successes and failures of potty training. For the nights I am forced from a deep slumber by a screaming baby (and maybe a toddler, too). And for the days when all I feel like I do is remind my oldest to get off of her baby sister’s head, for goodness sake!
And it makes me reminisce on all the sweet moments of motherhood. My oldest daughter patting and shhh-shing my youngest back to sleep at 3 a.m. The rosey cheeks of my sleeping babies. The slobbery kisses of my 8-month-old. The intense amount of concentration it takes to wave bye-bye those first precious times, not to mention the raw fascination on baby’s face when she sees her hand opening and closing.