As I glance around our home I want to cry...full out wail, really...every surface is covered by something that obviously doesn't belong in that location.
Computer desk: a seemingly clean washcloth laid directly in front of the screen, a letter "e"-shaped chestnut twig curled around an elastic and a Canadian Tire receipt for something to do with a vehicle, books on mazes and dragons and Thailand, plastic cup half-full of the "hairy butt" (African sea coconut) medicine that our youngest is supposed to ingest three times daily, scrap ripped paper with humans in five-year-old drawing ability, a pair of pink sunglasses and about four dozen odd items that do not ever belong on a computer desk.
And that is just the beginning.
As I bent to sip my long-cold hot chocolate I noticed a fruit fly on the soggy marshmallow and as I attempted to remove the bug the round soppy globe popped out of the mug and skidded halfway across the kitchen floor, slowed down only by the clumps of dirt and breakfast crumbs still decorating its vast surface.
On the kitchen floor: a pumpkin (I WILL get to making it into puree, I really, truly WILL), the compost bucket ready to be dumped, two backpacks in various stages of disarray, one winter boot (of whose partner has still not revealed itself despite deep searches), a black grocery bin that has yet to make it back tot he van, some wildly hued snowpants...the list, again, goes on and on and on...
And yet, the laughter of two children rings from the bathroom tub that nearly overflowed as I forgot that I was making a eucalyptus bath for the sickie child...
And I am, surprisingly, calm. And, even more surprisingly, filled with an overwhelming sense of joy.
Odd though that may be in our chaotic (and VERY messy) circus-like existence...
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