I'll Mop Another Day

"I'll Mop Another Day"

My kitchen floor is a mess. I swear the house was clean when we put him to bed, how can one two-year-old touch so many things in the first four hours of daylight? Books scattered throughout the house, Buzz and Woody in his shopping cart, Cheerios under the table and sippy cups hidden behind the recliner. I look down at my five month belly and wonder how I will ever find another moment of clean peace and quiet.

Jolly little hand prints mark up Daddy’s big screen as well as my newly painted hallway. What idiot said flat paint hides everything? My toothbrush is now community property; there is no safe place he can’t find it. I’ve rediscovered my jewelry collection in trails of a different life hidden like treasures throughout the upstairs. A rhinestone earring here, a beautiful no-longer-neglected bracelet there. Where does his energy come from?

Another fifteen minutes and he can go down for a nap. Maybe Barney can entertain him for the second time today and give me an early start on my chore list. I sit him on the couch, and to his squeals of utter delight turn on the purple giant. Walking into the kitchen I look down at my sticky floor. Between the juice and the yogurt, this floor seems to be my nemesis. I round the corner into the utility room and reach for the mop and a bucket. As I turn back, light from the little window above the sink illuminates a small spot of floor in front of the refrigerator and I freeze.

Two little footprints stop me in my tracks. Illuminated in the sunshine and emblazoned on the kitchen floor, they’re like angel whispers touching my heart. I suddenly realize how fast those little feet are growing. He didn’t fit into his church shoes this week. Three years has been a heartbeat, my precious babies are going to be a big brother and then a cub scout and then somebody’s prom date and finally, he’ll be gone from my arms, gone from my kitchen floor. My throat tightens and I set the broom back in its corner. Quietly, I head to the living room, scoop my angel into my arms, smell his hair and kiss his sticky hand. We snuggle up with his blanket and together, gratefully, watch Barney.

I’ll mop another day.