I find that the happier I am, the less I have to write about. I'm writing a beautiful life not in little words, but in breaths; not in front of a computer late at night but in the fresh air under the mid-afternoon sun, with my children and their laughter and the love we share. Of course I still feel compelled to write, even when I have nothing much to say. This is one of those "nothing much to say" posts.
I decided to turn the extra bedroom into a play room for the kids, though I don't know why these ideas for inside activities come to me on beautiful days. No one wants to spend the whole day inside rearranging, so of course we didn't. But I did get started, and hopefully that will be motivation enough to finish it in small spurts throughout the rest of the week.
The space was once our bedroom, but it's just a mostly empty space now after my husband moved his bedroom to the attic. HIS bedroom, because we haven't had an "our bedroom" for a long time. I'm sort of a nomad in my own home, sleeping wherever I'm needed - mostly in Evie's room because she still can't sleep through the night without me. I was going to turn the space into my own place, finally my own place in my own home. But the whole house is mine, really. It's painted in colors I picked, decorated with knickknacks of my choosing, my books on the shelves, my cats wandering around.
So, I'm turning this plum-colored room into a play area hopefully before the end of this week. We already picked up some cute kids' rugs - one is the solar system and the other is a map of the continents. I've moved the play kitchen that cluttered up my daughter's room into the space already.
The big task, the worst task, is the fact that the room is full of laundry. Clean laundry that I never got around to folding or putting anywhere. I just kinda tucked in that room and was like "I'll get to it when I get to it." Then I tucked some more in. Then I went in and picked out an outfit. Then more clothes got piled in. It's sort of a living nightmare, as laundry is the worst task ever.
But it'll get done. Eventually. The days are too pretty to sit inside folding clothes.