I have spent the last two weeks, cleaning, agonizing, trying to make our home the absolute best it can be. I am proud of the home The Man works so hard to provide for us.
My children have chipped in and done the lists of things I have asked. I am down to one room. It is the room that shows my inner chaos. It is where I am comfortable showing how out of control I feel.
Today is the day to clean and I don't want to. I am comfortable in the mess. It comforts me to see the outward expression of what I feel inside.
I watched our son be recognized as a graduating senior today. I was so proud and it humbled me when our youth pastor thanked him for wanting to serve our country. Inside that grown young man is my baby. My son whom it took a long time to prove that mommy's are not monsters that go bump in the night. My son whom it took 4 years to say I love you because he was so afraid. Now, he is on the cusp of a new adventure and my heart aches. It aches with pride and the bittersweet memories of my little boy.
It is petty, I know it is, before I even say it. I so enjoy hosting. I love sharing our home, showing it off. Showing off my Grandmothers corner cabinet, my Aunts Crystal, my mothers quilt, and the work I have put into making this shell a home. I don't wanna share this with my inlaws. I don't want to expose my home to their lack of approval. My head knows that no matter what I do, it won't be enough. The little girl that lives inside of all of us, doesn't want to "share my toys." Yet, it is the right thing to do, and do it I will. I just don't have to like it. Thank God I was trained in Southern Manners, and hospitality...