distantly, i remember a time when i used to be so good at keeping my bed made. keeping my home tidy. people who visited would even comment on it. those pre-teddy days. man, they were so gloriously tidy.
now it seems there's always something out of place. i'm surrounded by burp cloths, swaddles, wonderfully lumpy pillows, and beautiful, soft toys that make me (and teddy) smile. my breast pump is always at arms reach and out in the open. it's not pretty to look at. (do they make designer breast pumps that look like chic decor? that would make money, people!)
most of the time i don't mind having a house that isn't spotless, but sometimes when i look at my bed and see that it hasn't been made yet again, and it's the late afternoon, and in just a few hours we'll be climbing back into it-- for some reason it makes me cringe.
which is silly. last night's diaper is worthy of a cringe. an unmade bed is not.
i was thinking about how comfy our bed is. how much teddy loves cuddling in it. how with the feather topper below us and the feather duvet above us, and pillows everywhere it feels like we're sleeping on a cloud. it's a lovely bed. it held me on sleepless nights while i was pregnant with teddy. it carried us after we brought him home from the hospital and when i was recovering from my c section. we've had it since we were married; it's been through a lot.
it remains incredibly cozy, even though some days it goes unmade.
and i guess as long as teddy has snuggly memories of cuddling, tickling, nursing, sleeping and drooling on our soft, white, lumpy bed that's okay with me.