Tuesday, April 29, 2014

You Know the Moment

The moment when my sentimentality loses ground to my need not to step on one more godforsaken COLORED PENCIL.

I have countless moments where I can look around my toy ridden home and smile thinking of the precious stage of life we are in. Playtime lasts all day, grape fights are a super fun way to end lunch, creativity is encouraged through various mediums of clothes staining crafts, and we choose to wrestle on the floor rather then vacuum up Play-Doh. (that was just for effect, Allie...you know this Mama does not allow Play-Doh in my house)

I am not a crazy person. I do not need my books lined up alphabetically by genre or my dinner forks to be on the left side of the silverware rack. Last year I planted annuals in dirt specifically for perennials. Sometimes my bra and underwear don't match. I live loose.

But God help us all the day when I just can't smell the roses any more. I grab an armful of Trader Joe's bags (perfect for these moments because they double bag at our TJ's and you can fit a decent weight of stuff in those paper bags) and just start to Swedish Chef my way across the house. If I haven't seen you reading this magazine this week, in the bag. Your insect parade puzzle is missing a piece? Gone. 7 Hello Kitty socks with no matches? You get one more laundry cycle to round up the odd ducks, and then they're gone. Those 42 index cards with 42 rainbows on them that you colored yesterday? I will chose one, maybe two. I am a heartless machine with no feelings other then a maniacal desire for something vanilla or white in my peripheral vision.

I am not a respecter of persons on the day the music dies. I go through my own drawers and closet and shelves and floor. If I can't imagine the perfect place to wear it, it's time to thrift. I just need some empty flat surfaces. To see my hardwood floor. To be able to pull out the coffee creamer without knocking three Mason jars of pesto linguini on the floor. I need tabula rasa. Blank canvas.

Probably to fill up with shiny things that I will most likely purchase the next time I have a free afternoon and wander up to the antique shop in Coraopolis with the awesome room of vintage beer steins and tea services.


  1. I have never felt something so deeply. And I only have one. (Two, if you count the husband.) This post is inspiring. I know what I'm doing this weekend. xoxo.

    1. This comment made me giggle. Thank you!