Random thoughts for a Saturday night.
I folded baby washcloths to put into the laundry hamper while we watched TV, and I suddenly looked down at my hands and wondered why on Earth I was folding something that would get jumbled and tossed about in the drawer as my husband messed about looking for the very thing he was stirring. I had stopped folding washcloths when my son was 6 months old, just cramming them into the top drawer labelled for their storage, too busy with other things to bother. Of all the baby clothes, they needed smoothing and cornering the least. But here I was folding them along with onesies, pyjamas with feet, little tiny socks, and impossibly small jeans. Would the world end if I stopped folding these?
It didn’t last time.
I stuffed them into a crevice of the full laundry hamper with abandon. It felt decidedly wicked and un-matronly. I was living dangerously, giving conformity the middle finger by not folding baby washcloths.
Next, I decided to leave my socks on the floor and not pick them up. Oh yes… Then I thought maybe I’d lick the jam off a butter knife.
I was on a roll.
edit: Who was I kidding? I folded the damned things after, my hands itching as I stared at the full basket for over an hour, its lumpy form berating me silently. My insatiable need to flat-laying washcloths in the basket on the microwave and the drawer in the baby’s room won out, and they were hastily gathered and squared up.
I suck at this rebellious housewife thing.
My husband is turning 31 on Thanksgiving. For his birthday, we spied the complete set of the BBC series Planet Earth. It was $60, and I know we can’t afford it, but we buy it anyways with a “Happy Birthday” hug and kiss in the middle of a busy Wal-Mart. We watched the episode on mountains, and I blearily took in the site of a Mountain Goat balefully staring out into the expanse, rocky cliffs around him seemingly impossible to scale.
As the camera panned around the lone goat, his jaw working while chewed on something random, the sheer enormity of our world took me full in the chest. I looked over at my son and my husband, who were both snoring on the sofa, and I immediately prayed that we could make our way in it without messing our son up too much before we leave this Earth.
I also realized that I needed to go to bed, because a Mountain Goat just made me poke at the fleshy innards of my mortality.