Every now and then I like to pretend. That things in my home are nearly picture perfect. When I sit down on the couch, or a chair I’m not likely to sit on a clothes pin that will jab me in the gluteus maximus. That I will have my coffee in peace, at length and savor each vitalizing sip.
That going to bathe will not mean the rescue of wild animals and divers from buckets before I can aim the shower jets at myself. Or that touching any random surface in the kitchen will not reveal a presence of stickiness which will either be jam or peanut butter.
The floors will be spotless instead of having tell-tale signs of a child who runs with his glasses of milk and juice in hand. The moment I put my foot on the floor when I get up in the middle of the night I’m not going be poked by a triceratops or land on a Hot Wheels car with God know whats stuck on its hood.
I also like to pretend that when my adorable, beautiful little boy wakes up in the morning it will be accompanied by a Good Morning rather than a sound that mimics the ambulance siren down to the last cringe-worthy pitch and tone.
The fantasy isn’t one of being single or not being a parent. Because that’s not entirely a desired state of being either. Once you have kids, you may not always be able to connect with that time in your life when they weren’t around. Brats or not…they’ve fit in seamlessly and that’s how it should be. But there’s such a calming effect to the fantasy ( aka delusion) that things are in their own place, the house is clean, all the little monsters that your little monster plays with are in their rightful place and if you want to, you can just NOT RUSH while you go about doing the prosaic little things that make up your life viz doing the laundry, taking in the laundry, hanging out the laundry, folding the laundry, making the beds, planning the meals, trying to recall if the wooden stuff needs another polish and if the leather stuff can go another week without its spray and polish….you know, all the little joys we embrace when we decide to be a home maker rather than climb up the corporate ladder in any shape or form.
But reality does set it. A small person comes back home, ecstatic to see you after a few hours of being away in school. And while you are the go-to person for turning on the t.v or sourcing the iPad and assuaging hunger, you are also the person they want with you when they are happy. You are the one they turn to. For everything.
That’s a high that the best fantasy can’t begin to compare to on most days.
Happy Weekending People!