As a kid growing up, my mom would always have me make my bed. It didn't seem logical to me, because I would be gone the whole day at school, work, and various after school activities, only to return home and go to bed.
Why make my bed when all I was going to do was sleep in it? I still can't tell you why she had me make it, but I can tell you that having to make it everyday from the age of three to eighteen, I learned that a clean house is a happy one.
Walking into my room with my bed made gave me this "ah, I'm home" feeling. As a mom of two, my house always seems to be a wreck. That's life with kids anyone will tell you, and I know it's okay to let a mess be here and there while my kids play, but still nothing beats a clean house. So, sure the kitchen and living room might look like a bomb went off, but at least my bed is made.... sometimes. Sorry mom.
I dream of a maid who comes everyday and cleans, but that's not reality. So, I just sip on my Dr. Pepper, count to ten and get right back into the pile of Legos, kids, and dogs that awaits.
It's a messy life, but it's my life, and it sure is a dang good one!
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