One day, I'll be able to sleep in as late as I want. I'll be able to decide if I want to even get out of bed. I'll be able to plan my entire day from the comfort of my bed and know that my day will go according to plan. One day there will be no hiccups, no chaos, no mess.
One day my house will be clean. The laundry will be done and put away. The dishes will never be stacked in the sink for more than a day. The dining room table will be empty and free of sticky spills and crumbs. One day our carpet will be clean.
One day I will cook dinners. Real dinners using fresh ingredients. My microwave will almost become obsolete. One day I will no longer buy things like chicken nuggets and microwave pancakes and juice that comes in pouches. One day, if I decide, I will eat nothing but broccoli, and no one will complain about the smell.
One day my living room will be free of doll shoes and crayon marks and play-doh. One day I won't have to watch my step as closely. The bathroom in the hall will always be clean, and no longer necessitate the quick spot clean when company comes. It will no longer have hair bows and toothbrushes littering the counter and towels on the floor. One day everything in my bathroom with match, down to the soap dispenser.
One day, will be here before I know it. I'll wake up one morning and the dolls will remain on the shelves, their shoes in their designated bins. One morning I'll start making smoothies and coffees and someone will only want orange juice and a single piece of toast. One day, I'll come home to an empty house, free of toys and spills and piles of laundry to fold. And I will miss the chaos terribly.
I find that I get wrapped up in the mess and the chaos. Because I'm pulling our clothes out of the clean pile. Because dinner is chicken nuggets again. I get upset when I realize that the light switch in the bathroom has dirty finger prints after our guests have left, that they had to wipe their hands on the discolored towel hanging on the rack. I worry that my kitchen sink smells, that the garbage should have been taken out yesterday, that they just might sit on a couch that is full of Cheetos crumbs.
I try to remind myself that this season is so short. That already the spills are less. The crumbs are fewer and farther between. I think that one day I'll miss the smell of chicken nuggets right out of the microwave, I'll miss the complaints about the broccoli smell. I've begun to realize that one day they will let me sleep in. That one day they won't need me to make their breakfast. It's occurred to me that one day, they will be so wrapped in their own lives that sitting down to read a book or color a picture will be a distant memory.
One day my house will be so quiet and clean. And I'll wonder why on earth I wanted this so much.
Because one day I'll miss every single bit of this life that is so very messy that it is downright beautiful.
