Wednesday, October 10, 2012

that laundry-soap smell.

as i was reaching my arm into the washer this morning- this is not a horror story, in case you were wondering.

anyway, while reaching, i thought to myself "if i'm supposed to be enjoying the journey and not racing through each day, maybe i should learn to like doing laundry."

so i closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of laundry soap. and instantly i remembered being pregnant.

i remember feeling like a baby factory. and here we are, now, closing that chapter.

eveleen turned one last saturday and has been toddling around. finn walked up to her the other day and complimented, "awe, she's so walky."

when ossi (our second) was born i remember watching a family with 4 and 5 year old kids and thinking, "i can't wait for that! i can't wait until they play together like that!"

behind me as i type i can hear the boys racing from one end to the room to the other, gleefully giggling. liam says, "ossi, for this race you have to have one boot off and one boot on." heaven.

so i smelled the laundry soap and reveled in the cool, damp feeling of the clothes as i tossed them into the drier. i paid close attention to the feel of the machine buttons and i made a game out of loading the washer once more. i let myself become excited at the buzz of the drier's alarm.

and i celebrated like a madwoman when the laundry was done.

a mother i met through liam's school recently shared some of her story with me. she also had four kids in five years but her youngest is now in first grade. she described a photograph to me that she had framed as a badge of honor:

sitting in bed with messy hair and an old, worn t-shirt. a baby nursing. two kids climbing on her head and another one crying. i bet you can imagine what her face expression may have been. i imagine a cross between, "wow, i am vital to the success of many lives" and "oh bother, i am vital to the success of many lives."

oh, body. i know you have mixed emotions about your purpose from here-on-out.

let me calm you. you may not be creating life, but i promise you i'll let you be valuable. you'll meet weary hands to lift. you'll have mountains to climb. i'll put you to work living our many other dreams.

the laundry may be done for now. so let's get to work on the garden.


Anonymous said...

beautiful, and thank you for this reminder that i can indeed find joy in the journey makes me think of this book a loving friend gave me a few years ago, called the artist's way. it explains how we can find joy in the little things, by counting our steps, breathing, being more aware, smelling the laundry....loved your post, as always

Anonymous said...

Wise Woman

Anonymous said...

I have been following your blog for a little while now. I love you. You are wise, and thoughtful, and very loving. I hope to someday feel peace with my own body's inability to have any more children. I had to have an emergency hysterectomy to save my life during the birth of our 3rd child. I have felt so lost since then because I always thought we'd have 6 children. Thank you for reminding me that my body can still have purpose. Thank you for reminding me that we can climb! I need to work on reminding myself that so I don't hate what has happened, and so that I can love my body again. Right now it's hard, but I'm trying. Thank you for giving me hope.

Anonymous said...

The cure for dread of doing laundry?

One trip to the laundromat