I am expecting guests in a few hours, and I am actually surveying my house in with some satisfaction. Yes, I can still see a little plastic bowl and a todler stock laying on the floor (and I will pick them up as soon as I finish this post. But in general, the house looks as nice and tidy as a house with a todler can look. This morning, when something threw a wrench in my schedule, I wasn't really certain how much of tidying and cleaning I would get done before my friend arrived, but from somewhere inside, this sentence welled up: "At least the house will smell of chilli, and I will smell of roses".
As I got up early today and immediately put all the ingredients in the crockpot, the house does smell of chili. And while I do not smell of roses, I smell of a soft grapefruit scented perfume. I am feeling contented, in my scented house, even with the stray todler sock and the pink plastic bowl. While I was tidying here and there I thought really that that is the essence what I would like my husband to come home to every day. The smell of a decent meal, and a wife who may have a todler on her hip and some smudges of yoghurt on her blouse (why do todlers always do this about five minutes before their fathers come home) but who has taken the time to do something, even as small as spritzing on some perfume, to make it clear that she is happy he is home and wants to be atractive for him.