My Mother

My mother used to tell me that I needed to clean my room before I had friends over. My typical response was something along the lines of "But MOM...their rooms are dirty too!" or "Gosh, Mom, they really don't care what my room looks like."

My mother used to tell me that I should make my bed every day. Most days I didn't because I would say, "But MOM I'm just gonna get right back in it tonight! Why does it need to be made?"

My mother used to tell me that my room wouldn't be messy if I would just put things where they go to begin with instead of being lazy and tossing my dirty clothes on the floor. "But MOM, I was tired!" or "Yeah yeah, I know!"

I used to think that one day I'd have my own place and I would never care if there were dishes in the sink, beds unmade, or general clutter everywhere when people came over. (And in a way, that's how I lived in college, but who's keeping track??) What a life, right?

Now, I have my own little home. It's small but I love it and I love the man I share it with. But somehow, I find myself saying the following lines way more often than I care to think about....

"Doesn't our room look so pretty with the bed made?"
"They're gonna be here in 5 minutes?? But there's mail piled up on the table!"
"K, could you please put your shoes away...it looks nicer when they're picked up."
"No, I didn't call maintenance to come and fix the A/C. Why? Because the sink overfloweth with dishes, that's why."
"OH NO! That's tonight! But the house isn't clean!!!"
"Please don't judge my messy house!"

So this is my way of saying, Mom, that you were right. So very, very right. Things have a funny way of coming full circle, don't ya think?