Two Thoughts Tonight

I love the deliciously large elm tree in our backyard.

Except.
Except.
Except.

For today.

Whoa.

For the last several days it has started dropping its lovely white seeds.

But today it's done over achieved. (And now I'm turning hickish.)

I've almost got a honest-to-goodness blanket of snow on my lawn out there. And in my flowerbeds. And in my flower pots. All over the deck and the garden. All over my front porch.

We are not on very good terms right now, that tree and I.

It is a freakishly-clean-person's nightmare. Mine. (Sometimes I think I'm a bit freakish.)

I hope it all blows away soon so I don't feel stressed about vacuuming my carpets and sweeping entryways to try to keep those blasted half-inch circles from blizzarding our house as well.

And the other thing.

At this stage in my mothering, you know what I do every single day?

Clean a spill.

Every. single. day.

You name it.

Some color.
Some liquid.
Some inconvenience.
Some THING every day.

This thought registered this morning when Isaiah spilled milk from his cereal. On the table, on the floor, and on his clean shorts as well -- which we had just barely put on. And tonight, when he also spilled apple juice from his cup. All over the table, the floor, and his sister too. And I found myself thinking about how I had just barely cleaned the floor. On my hands and knees. With a wet rag.

(And I seem to be very fond of the period punctuation mark in this post, by the way.)

Every. single. day.

But I'd rather be home, able to clean that and read stories and take walks and have hair-brained days and be with these children I love more than life itself than be anywhere or doing anything else.

Every. single. day.