Mumbling...

*patience*

I swear by all things dear to me that I hoover (downstairs) once a day and wash up at least three times a day.

I hoover the stairs every other day or so and hoover the upstairs once a week.

If you were to walk into my home tonight (it's 9pm and I should not be on tinternet I could be cleaning/tidying...but I'm not) you would think we had been robbed.  In fact if we had been robbed I would be unable to tell the SOCO where to start looking for clues.

You would marvel that such a small and over-crowded home could accommodate quite so much on its floor and you may also wonder if the sink of washing up will be done before dawn (Im wondering that too at the moment)

I want to encourage creativity, I want to embrace these years when they are so little and life is lived without care every single day...

but why oh why does that need to involve emptying boxes of tiny foot stabbing pieces, larger heavy cars before then wandering off to the next big adventure?

You drive me totally potty almost every day..

and yet...

I wouldn't change (any of) you for the world!

I know that this too shall all pass, 

I also know that when it does I shall miss it more than words will ever be able to express

For as much as I moan as I try to take pride in my home, I take a greater pride in all your creative mess 

and you wont here the thoughts of wonder and marvel at the said mess that circle my mind as I mumble and stumble around 'tidying'

You've got to love the workings of a mamas mind!