Simple Pleasures: An Empty Catchall

I mentioned trying not to dwell on messes here and there because the cause of those messes is a gaggle of youngins for which I am so grateful. That reminder was a dramatic one for me. And it has played in my mind countless times over the past week. While I admit to being a less than stellar housekeeper, I promise that reminder wasn't just a convenient way to excuse my own messes.

One month ago while the two older children were visiting with my parents for a few days, Sam and I cleaned this entire house from top to bottom.  It has never been as clean as it was for those...few hours...before my kids got home.  Over the course of the month, little messes have shown up here and there.  A stray power cord here.  A pile of plastic dishes there.  A random bath toy in the living room floor.  A beaded necklace on Ben's bedroom floor.  And of course, there are those paths and paths of mysterious sticky drops all across our tile floor that I find myself constantly following with a dishrag and spray cleaner.  And each of those things is a common byproduct of life as a family of five, three of whom are elementary age and younger.

One thing, though, that we have been vigilant about since The Super Amazing Housecleaning Caper is keeping our [former] catchall free from shoes.  Underneath those bar stools is the most tempting place to stop when we enter the house and mindlessly free our prisoners (feet) from the bondage of their oppressors (shoes) as we scatter our random papers, keys, purses, diaper bags, what have you on the kitchen bar.

Most days, it requires a reminder.  But some days, like today, it's just empty - free from princess flip flops and tennis shoes and leather sandals.  

And that, friends, is one of my life's simplest pleasures.

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