Saturdays are vacuum days. And so are Sundays. Oh and weekdays :-)
As I clean our house top to bottom this morning (which gives me the greatest of joys), I am seeing it with fresh eyes - overwhelmed by how much it has physically changed in the past few years.
We've renovated the upstairs bathroom. Bought new master bedroom furniture. Gutted what is now the nursery. Added chair railing. Painted. Purchased a front-load washer and dryer. Replaced the windows. Got a new dishwasher. Fixed up our guest room.
We're making it our own.
I am reminded, even as I wish for my dream kitchen with all white cabinets and granite countertops and and reclaimed hardwood; even as I secretly pray for a single-family home with a big yard and a white picket fence and French doors; even as I design my would-be home office in my head, that this - this is our home.
Peas leftover from last night's dinner lie strewn under Lincoln's chair. Crumbs line the countertops. Dishes call my name from the sink. Reminders that our family has never had to wonder where our next meal is coming from.
Clean laundry spills out of baskets. Dirty laundry piles up in hampers, on the floor. Making it abundantly clear that have so many clothes we can't keep them all clean, or folded.
Toys, everywhere. In the living room. In the dining room. In the bathroom. Our home is a place full of laughter and adventure and play.
And then, out of nowhere, it occurs to me suddenly, that I didn't even have to go through the stressful process of picking out this home. No, my husband had picked it out for us, for our family, long before we'd ever met. He anticipated that one day we'd live here, happily together - our crazy bunch. He was preparing for us before we ever arrived.
This realization brings me joy. Reminds me of the truth.
That although this is not our dream home by any standard ... this is our dream.
Only we are very much awake :-)