Moments

My Little Cubby

We have a tiny little “room” in our house (more of a walk-in closet, really) which is where the washer and dryer live. It’s also my “craft” room–it houses my yarn and fabric collections, my sewing machines, and also my clothes (the closet in the master bedroom is S’s and the linens’ domain). It’s a rather nicely organized little room, with a worktable, cabinets, shelving, drawers, and a multitude of drying racks.

It is also, however, an invisible room: being a dead end, no one besides me ever traffics though, and there’s no reason why any company would ever go in there–even overnight guests. And so, it is a room with all the usual tendencies to disorder, but without any justification to really add it to the cleaning rotation. There’s always somewhere that needs cleaned more; another job that needs done first.  Every other spot in the house is “more” important, from the basement to the coat closet.  Over the years, my little hideaway had consequently gotten to be quite a wreck, a mass of strewn clothes from a particular toddler helping with the laundry, and piles of boxes and containers quickly tossed in there because it is indeed quite a significant amount of storage space for our house.

But while the girls and I were in Tennessee earlier this month, and S was home by himself, he tackled it.  He cleaned it out, sorted through and organized my stuff (without throwing anything away!), prettied it up, and basically made it all perfect again.  This was at first an odd choice of task, to my mind, but in the week since, I’ve really come to appreciate it.  Even though it’s a very dark and kind of dingy room (remember it’s technically a closet), I love going in there and doing laundry or just standing there drinking in the orderliness.  Everything is so organized and patiently waiting for me to find time to sew, or knit, or scrapbook, or… laundry.

I l like my little cubby.  🙂  And the fabulous fellow who put so much time and effort into fixing it for me.

Moments

Differences; walking.

It amazes me sometimes how very different the girls have been.  From the very beginning, when R was born, I remember being amazed, wow, a baby CAN cry that loud?  She screamed and screamed.  E just kind of whined, and not very often at that.  R reminded me of a banshee.

Now, suddenly, R is walking — not just walking, but walking really, really well.  And in this, too, she is completely different from E.  E took her first little steps at 7 months, and was very persistent in those wobbly first steps: I caught her on video the very first day.  It took her ages to grow to proficiency, but she would try… and fall.  E was our child with the bumps and bruises and cuts on her face, the one who made us childproof our table corners and remove every possible obstacle from the house.  R, on the other hand… I’m not exactly sure when her “first” steps were, because she’d never repeat them more than once in a week or so.  And yet by 7 months or so we could “trick” her into taking steps; one time we counted no less than seven across my parents’ carpeted floor.  She clearly had better balance and coordination than E, but absolutely no daredevil streak at all.  So she didn’t really walk that anyone could see until last month (8 months)… and then she had a little fall, and that was the end of that for about three weeks.  Finally, one day this week, she literally just let go of the couch and by the end of the hour was walking all around the house (not really falling at all), climbing up stairs, climbing over obstacles… she’s like the little dream child, because we haven’t had to childproof things at all, but she doesn’t really ever get hurt.  And now today she’s half running down the hallway at church, enough to make Mommy terrified of the tile floor!

They’re such different children!