You know what I love, one of the best parts of my day… it’s when I finally drag myself to bed at night and I have to pick up a bunch of random things off my bed. Tonight it was a wooden fish and a little white straw hat. The other day it was a couple of books, a rosary, and a Hot Wheels tow truck.
It’s the one mess I really don’t mind cleaning up, the one mess that makes me smile. Every time. Because I suddenly see before me the little faces of the little people who made that mess. (It probably doesn’t hurt that they are all quietly tucked into their beds by this time and have been for a while.) And I realize how blessed I am to be a mom, to have these precious little ones in my life. And they even call me “Mama”. Even Ben.
I will never be one of those moms who banishes her kids from her room so that it can be a pristine sanctuary. I don’t blame those who do. I know everyone’s needs are different; if you need that sanctuary to stay sane, then by all means seize it with both hands and enforce that embargo with an iron fist. But for me it’s one thing that always makes me happy at the end of a long day. Even if I’ve just finished griping about the mess in the living room.
I don’t know why—maybe it’s the memory of their little pajama-clad forms, the memory of their playing pre-bedtime tickle games with daddy, the memories of the cuddles and stories and prayers—but those traces of the little ones playing in my bed melts me. And now I really am going to go to bed.
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