Saturday, January 5, 2013

everything in its place

I’d been so busy removing obstacles to seeing my daughter that I barely had time to look at her. In my desperate attempt to not be my mother, I ended up repeating her behavior. She tried to make up for her childhood by filling her home with objects; I countered my youth by ridding them. But both of us could be blind when it came to our children.

I looked at the spoon’s unruly mix of saliva, seafood and milk. No matter how much I cleaned up, I could not control the disorder of motherhood.
My mother was not a hoarder -- exactly the opposite of it -- but I resonated with this article and the author's attempts to organize her new world as a parent. The thought of Linnea covered in pureed carrots prickles my throat, but I'm not sure if it's realistic to create an all-clean-everything world for her.

Or maybe not. Clearly, my mom was able to impart some of her super-cleanliness powers on my childhood psyche.

playing in the yard
Of course I'm sitting on a white towel while I play in the yard. And I'm sure my mom made me take a bath right after this.

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