Friday, October 3, 2008

My son, the tornado (August 8 2008)

I like a tidy house. I'm not a neatfreak by far. A kitchencounter can be neat and tidy in my view without being empty. BC (before children) I loved keeping a nice, tidy house with some cheerful touches like flowers, cloth napkins and a pretty fruit centerpiece. These days, I feel like I am a broomwagon, trying to clean up after a forever hungry tornado named Joseph. I knew that cracker crumbs probably came with the mom teritory, but I guess it is not until you are sweeping the same living room floor five times a day that you realise what a mess just one tiny, active child can make. At first I had the idea of only letting him eat when strapped in his feeding chair. The reality of the situation with this botomless pit is that if I want to do that, he will be strapped to that chair seven hours a day, with me sitting next to him. And I have things that I want to do.
I keep thinking with longing towards the day when he will sit at a little table and colour a picture and with a desire, only surpassed by my desire for heaven, for the day when he will read. I think my parents didn't hear a sound out of me between the time a learned to read and the moment it became time to chose a university. I hope Joseph is the same.

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