Saturday, July 2, 2016

There's No Place Like Home

(Artwork by my lovely kiddos)

It's morning. I wake up to the sounds of a baby cooing and children rustling about. With great pains I force my sleepy eyelids upward. I have a hard time in the mornings. One day I will beat the struggle and will rise before the birds. Until then I must deny myself any more slumber and forcefully get out of my comfortable bed. I throw back my floral blanket and tell myself, "Arise sleepy head!"

This is home. 

Finally I appear in the kitchen in zombie mode. The true zombie apocalypse happens every morning when this tired mother, half asleep, appears out of nowhere. Coffee is my antidote. Ah, the pot is finally gurgling away. The smell of my antidote fills the air. One sip, and I'm ready for a marathon. Complete with tied shoelaces.Though mine happen to be tied together because one of my youngin's decided they needed airplanes for their dinosaurs and mommy's shoes were close and the perfect size. The rest is history. 

This is home.

Breakfast is made. A pile of dirty dishes on the counter is proof that my bunch is fed. Time to tackle making bread or it won't be done in time for lunch. The house smells of the rising bread. I soak it in. Such a heavenly smell. The faucet is turned on to start filling my sink up, add a squirt or two of dish soap, throw in the silverware, grab a crocheted dishcloth, and I'm ready to tackle this task. Right at the moment that I plunge my hands into the soapy water the baby starts crying. The dishes will have to wait. Someone wants their breakfast.

This is home.

I sit down on the couch and start nursing my baby. On the floor is spread blocks and various other toys. My girls are busy building a city. I watch in amazment. They are pretty creative.

This is home.

(Y'all this is just the morning. My day just begun. Whoever said being a full time mom was easy work has no idea what they are talking about. )

Scrambled eggs, bread rising, soapy water, children playing, baby coos.
Taste. Smell. Feel. See. Hear.

Home engages all five senses. Home is a place where we mold the future. Home. I like being home and I find it hard to leave. When given the choice of staying home or going out, I choose home. At home I can run in the grass barefooted with people I know and love dearly. In public I'm forced to where shoes in crowded places among, sometimes, rude strangers.

This proverb rings true:
‘Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home!

2 comments:

  1. Hello, Your post made me smile and to miss those sweet years of having my little ones home! You made me laugh over the shoelaces being tied together!! Enjoy each moment!
    Happy 4th of July!
    Blessings, Roxy

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    1. Hi Roxy,
      Thanks for stopping by. The little years is quite the busy season. Happy 4th to you as well!!! :)

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