He thinks I'm silly. Maybe it's true. Once I have scrubbed, vacuumed, dusted, and even picked up the smashed  blueberries that everyone has pretended not to see, I want the world to stop. I want that moment where I can feel its all perfect, clean and complete. I know this moment is short as it doesn't take long for my people to drop popcorn on the floor, spread their shoes across the room and mess up my pillows on the sofa.

Carpet angels. That's all I ask for. I request that he take my little people out in order for me to smell the Pinesol and make carpet angels on my carpet that still shows the vacuum lines.

Is there a chance I have lost sight of what matters? Have I forgotten who this is all about? I admit it. I like clean, probably more than most. Yet, if I notice my eyes are looking for perfection, I will most definitely not notice the people that matter to me most. My people are messy. Once I clean the room, they suddenly decide that's where they want to be. The open spaces must call to them for Legos, dolls, and yes, dirty socks.

As I watch them fill the house with friends, toys, and crazy, I remember that this is where my eyes should be. Once my eyes are not focused on the petty messes, and what this explosion of toys might mean for me, I can return to loving them

I work to provide a home for them where they can truly live it up. When on the sofa, or building castles on the carpet, they are actually drinking in my presence, finding joy in me. I can smile as I know this is everything I work for, and it is good.

Like my dinner table set with flowers, polka dot napkins and colorful plates, it's not perfect until there has been laughter, pots are emptied, plates made messy, crumbs scattered and napkins crumpled on the floor. This is perfect. 

When I look at their faces as they transform the living room into a play land, the carpet lines disappear, but are replaced by my angels.