The Living Room

I crawled around the floor on my hands and knees. It was a nightly ritual after the kids were in bed. That sounds so tidy…after the kids were in bed.  Bedtime was anything but a tidy process.  After dinner, also not so tidy, it was bath time. Times three. We were past the ages of just making sure they were clean. They wanted to play in the bathtub. I’ve always been task oriented, getting the job done without much lingering, but three preschoolers overruled my determination.

Every. Single. Night.

So after dinner and dishes, baths and playing, teeth brushing and pajamas, stories and blanket tucking, prayers and kisses….and one last request for a drink of water…I’d tip toe out of sight. Of course, like any mother of small children, I’d wait those crucial few moments to witness their gentle little puffs of breath ease into the rhythm of sweet slumber. If even one woke up or worse yet cried, the other two would waken and we’d start the cycle all over again. It was such a relief when three sets of tiny little eyes seemed closed for the night. I’d check on them one more time then continue with the clean-up mission downstairs.

The living room and its sprawl of toys patiently waited. I approached it with a sigh sometimes, but most nights a sweet peace washed over me. This is where they played. This room was where they discovered, sang songs, counted numbers, learned colors, read books, played patty cake, took first steps, finger painted, squished playdoh, twirled in circles, clanged instruments, toppled towers, and served tea parties. Shoes were welcomed on the wrong feet, dress up tutus were more beautiful inside out, cowlicks fabulously stood hair straight up on end and the Little Tykes kitchen was always open for business.  

I gazed a moment before lowering my tired body to the ground. By the end of most days, that room resembled the after effects of a ticker tape parade. So I crawled from here to there stacking, arranging, straightening, all to be repeated again tomorrow. I’d wince as a Lego left its imprint on my knee cap and note that washable markers are well worth the extra cost. Cheerios were discovered in corners and couch cushions, while fruit snacks turned super glue were imbedded in the carpet. Missing socks mysteriously presented themselves in the middle of the room, while a battery operated toy chattered from deep within the toy box. I stepped back to admire the completed work before trudging upstairs to bed. 

Then all too soon, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, that phase of their lives was over. No more “look at me mommy” giggled from pig tailed girls, and no more superhero capes worn by an adventurous little boy. The years have given way to three wonderful young adults. Ones that make their dad and I proud. It seems so cliché talking about how fast the time goes. And yet it does. So I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of my family and wait patiently for the season of life that will bring the pitter patter of tiny feet to our home once again.