A Visit

When a "regular" person gets pregnant, are they asked to fill out stacks and stacks of paperwork to answer questions about themselves that they don't really have an answer for?  No.  Does anyone come to their house to see if they're fit to have children?  No. 

If only life were so easy. 

On Wednesday, someone is coming to our house to do that very thing.  Luckily, we know her and she has done this for us before, a little over 2 years ago.  Even so, I still find myself border-line obsessing over this visit.  I notice things like my baseboards...they're not pristine white and shiny like they were the first time she came.  Proof that I have a child...a little boy...who is very active.  She has one too now, so I'm sure she'll understand.  The last time she came, not an item was out of place throughout the entire house - the hall closet and the basement included.  This time, I won't even bother because I know she won't look.  I should put away some of the toys in the living room to straighten things up a bit.  I need to do that anyway to gear up for Christmas and the boy's birthday.  I should take this opportunity to really clean things the way they need to be cleaned that I've been putting off for so long.

There are lots of things I should do.  Maybe some of those things will get done, maybe they won't.  The glorious part about this visit is that I know, when it comes down to it, none of that really matters.  We have a healthy little boy who is thriving and if things are out of place when she rings that doorbell it's because he lives in a home where he's free to PLAY.  And that is okay. 

This is a new concept for me to take hold of in my life...someone please remind me of that Wednesday afternoon, okay?  I think I'll go dust off the lights in my bathroom now.  (Baby steps...)