My house is clean, really, really clean. My husband is brushing my clean son's teeth before bed, all the toys are put away, the dishes are clean, dinner has been eaten and leftovers packed up for lunch tomorrow, my tea is steaming beside me. Later, when I climb into bed I will be so happy it is made.
A couple of books later...
I love my husband and the fact that he puts our son to sleep most nights - a tradition we developed early-on - I love that even though I have a sewing project I want to be working on (and will work on as soon as this is finished) I have nothing else I am neglecting to write this entry. I love that we had a great morning out at the family centre where I was allowed a blissful 45 minutes - hour of peace (with coffee and cake!) while someone else kept an eye on my son. I was not too sad when a tantrum right before story-time meant we had to leave early, I enjoyed my walk home and a having a little more time than usual to prepare lunch (I fully admit I let him watch an episode of Dora while I made lunch - I don't regret it). I love that I got to sit and enjoy a lunch with my son while we talked about his morning (kids, toys, trucks, trains) and that he listened and understood when I asked him not to play with his drink. I love that Sebastian is napping again. I love that when awake, he can play autonomously but also that he loves spending time with me so much.
I love my achy body and the knowledge that it aches because it works so hard, because I spent my day cleaning and cooking and playing. I love that nearly six months pregnant, my body can still lift my son, that it can still walk nearly everywhere (a little slower), that it can still cook and clean and enjoy the brief peace of a clean and quiet house. I love that later, when the sun is setting, I will be treated to at the very least a hug and more likely a back rub. I love that the man giving me those things is the man I love so much and who loves me so much he will run to the store late at night for ice cream or cookie dough.
I am writing this down because of the many times I forget that which I love, or worse resent it. I forget why I work so hard and how much of the payoff is mine alone.