'Til they shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!

I just spent nearly two hours dust-mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, and mopping my house. I feel very good about this. This is the first house I've lived in that had no carpet; every room is either tile or laminate flooring. It's great for keeping the house cooler and it's pretty. The long hallway provides endless laughs when Kramer chases after his ball...think Scooby Doo legs. Anyway, it always feels good to break a serious sweat from cleaning. I broke that sweat and then some today.

I like keeping house. I'm not that great at it, but it's a good feeling and I get a sense of pride in a clean, nice-smelling home. When I was done mopping, I drank from my cold bottle of water and thought to myself 'good job...now if only you had a small child napping, life would be just about perfect.' Sigh. I have no babies, but I do have hope. And Kramer. For now, life is good...and I have clean floors.

Hanging on the family room wall of my childhood was a decoration that my mom had embroidered. There was a woman rocking a baby in a chair. Her hair was in a bun, and all looked peaceful. Up in the corner of this wall-hanging was an embroidered spider in her web. The following poem was embroidered on it as well...

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait til tomorrow

For babies grow up

We've learned to our sorrow

So quiet down cobwebs

Dust go to sleep

I'm rocking my baby

And babies don't keep

I believe that was my most favorite thing on any wall growing up. It was confirmation that my mother felt tenderness for her babies. My mom never was a lovey-dovey kind of mom. She did not express traditional affection toward us. She was good to us, but hugs, kisses, and I love you's were never the norm. I remember my dad saying that when it came to babies, he never knew a mother who loved her babies more than my mom loved hers. But as we grew, the affection withdrew. I don't know why. Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe because her folks weren't so affectionate with her she just didn't know how to be affectionate with us. I guess it doesn't really matter. I know she loves me. She now tells me everytime I talk to her that she loves me. And in any case, I love my mom. She is very special to me. And when I try to remember my mom loving me as a kid, I always remember this wall-hanging. She couldn't always tell me to my face, but she could tell me with a poem hanging in the family room. We all know that cleanliness is next to Godliness, but being a mother is Godliness.