It's bath night. My husband is in charge of bath night. That's one advantage to having a house full of children of the opposite gender--I don't have clean all those boy bodies. The mud and the saw dust, the food and the blood-- he does it. For this, I am grateful.
No, I don't have to manage the bathing of five young boys, I just have to clean the kitchen in peace and silence. When did cleaning a kitchen become such a luxury? And yet it really and truly is a luxury untold.
I sweep in peace, scrub pots uninterrupted, mop in the silent and peaceful evening with no other company than my happy thoughts.
And what are my thoughts? I think of our family life--this life we have together that has been built on love and sacrifice. I think on our dreams--our dreams to fill our lives with more of what we have and find ways to accommodate us all. I think of home education and all I hope to accomplish. I dream of happy days of learning under this small roof and how we might expand the roof and the number of learners beneath it some day--some day. I dream and think and it all seems so perfectly wonderful here in this kitchen, alone.
But as I listen I know that, at some point, all this dreaming and planning has to meet the reality that is carrying on upstairs. And you know, sometimes they can seem worlds apart.