small comforts

For a long time, I was not a bed maker. What was the point? You were just going to mess it all up again in several hours (which is a silly excuse, really. Why do you mow the lawn or do the dishes or wash the laundry?) Unless I was cleaning my room, the bed stayed as it was when I rolled out of it. The kids beds might have been made slightly more often, but still not regularly.

Then I had my third child. Oh, that boy. That demanding, needy, sweet boy. All of my plans for getting so.much.done that summer went out the window. He had other plans. Plans that included lots, and lots of being held. Plans that included not so much sleeping. So there were days that pretty much nothing besides snuggling and nursing a baby got done. Dishes went unwashed. Floors went unswept. Laundry piled up. Showers were not had until late in the afternoon, if at all.

It wasn't long before I was feeling very sorry for myself and very overwhelmed. And that's when it began. I started making beds, everyday. Because nothing looked better to me at the end of those very long days, than a nice, cozy, made bed to climb into. Because even if I got nothing else done for the entire day, I could get this done and reap the rewards every evening. Because for something that takes five minutes each day, the impact is so significant.

Now there are certainly days they still go unmade. There are days that I rush up at 6pm to fix the blankets and fluff the pillows.

 18 months into this third child thing, it's gotten a little easier, but the truth is there are still days that all I get done is snuggling, nursing and making those beds.

18 months into this making the beds daily thing, my 14 year old says to me a few weeks ago "hey, have you been making my bed?" Um, yes. "Thanks, I really like it". Maybe a little slow to notice, ahem, but when your 14 year old son says thank you and he appreciates something - you keep on doing it!

I've found that a made bed has become a small comfort to me. When my days are hard, when perhaps things get left undone a wee bit longer than I'd like, when maybe the air conditioner is still sitting out in January, when someones sewing stuff has expanded not very neatly off the sewing table, when the folded clothes are piling up and the kids are yelling and dinners late and the toddler wants up, up, up. . . Knowing that that little bit of comfort, of coziness and peace is waiting for me? I'd say it's worth every second of time it takes.