One of these days . . .

One of these days my house will be clean.

I will not find dirty socks stuffed between the couch cushions because it is apparently too far to walk to the hamper.  I will not have to muffle a cry of pain in the middle of the night because I stepped  on a particularly sharp Lego on my way to the bathroom.  I will not call out the words, “Who left the milk out?” only be answered with blank stares and innocent shrugs.

One of these days my floors will be spotless.


dirty socks on the floor can be keys to happiness

Dirty socks might just be the keys to happiness.

I will not follow muddy footprints from the door to the couch and find the culprit lounging with a volume of “Calvin and Hobbes” comics, giggling to himself, with not a care in the world.  I will not find my feet sticking to abandoned apple juice spills in the kitchen.  I will not walk around with damp socks because someone left puddles all over the bathroom floor after a shower.

One of these days I will be caught up with the laundry.

I will not have to lecture someone who threw her clean clothes into the dirty clothes basket when I asked her to pick clothing up off the floor.  I will not have to scratch my head and wonder how we wound up with twenty-three single socks.  I will not have to have to answer the question, “Mom, have you seen my (sweater, gym shorts, jersey, tights, ball cap, jacket)?” with “Did you look in your room?”

One of these days I will not begin every other sentence with “Did you . . . “

Did you brush your teeth? Did you pack your lunch? Did you finish your homework?  Did you walk the dog? Did you take out the trash? Did you write that thank you note? Did you really say that? Did you say you were sorry?

One of these days not every other sentence I hear will begin with “Momcanyou . . . “

“Momcanyou help me with my homework?”  “Momcanyou help me find my library book?”  “Momcanyou drive me to the mall?” “Momcanyou make some cookies for the bake sale?” “Momcanyou give me a dollar?  I hear the ice cream truck coming up the street!”

One of these days . . .

I will not spend my days grumbling about how if I want to get anything done, I need to do it myself. One of these days I will not rub my temples and wonder how anyone can sleep with such a huge pile of clothes and toys on their bed.  One of these days I’ll be able to sit in peace and quiet read a whole magazine article without being interrupted by “Momcanyou?” or “Momhaveyouseen?” or “Momwatchthis!”

One of these days . . .

One of these days my nest will be empty.  And I’ll miss the joyful racket of little birds that have flown.

So today I embrace the chaos as a vital indicator of our miraculous lives in motion.  Today I see the laundry as a signal that my children are healthy and growing and seizing the day.  Today I acknowledge that the dirty floors are a sign of many happy footsteps.   And today I know that all the “Did you’s” and “Can you’s” are a signal of our loving responsibility to one another.

Today, I smile with gratitude at the messiness of it all.

Because one of these days my house will be clean.  And they will be gone.