Tuesday, January 21, 2014
I take to the stairs because above me laundry awaits. It's Tuesday, which typically means I wash towels, but I sit the baby on the floor, handing him miscellaneous trinkets from near by, and start stripping the sheets off my bed. After falling victim to a leaky diaper, the sheets cannot wait till my customary sheet-washing Thursday. The seven month old sits sturdily and gums on a little penguin bucket until it is apparent by his cries he is bored and wishes to return to his regular perch on my hip. I pick him up, gather my comforter in my free arm, and stuff it into the washing machine just outside my room. Worried that it won't fit I contemplate a laundry mat, but the wiggly baby trying to flip himself upside down motivates me to give the blanket an extra shove. I hear singing below. Itsy Bitsy Spider. Classic. I hum along while I pin the fabric softener between my body the wall so I can remove the lid. The tiny boy under my arm lurches for the bottle and scolds me for keeping it out of reach. I laugh at his fit because his tiny puckered lip reminds me so much of his older sister. We return downstairs and I spend a moment surveying the house, planing my next move in the game that is morning.
As I look out over my world I contemplate my life and feel blessed. Not because it's perfect or glamorous or even particularly fun, but because it's beautiful, and because it's mine to captain.