I cleaned my office and organized all the clutter. I may have been inspired by the need to organize around a new flat screen TV at home. That required going through games and DVDs to keep only those that are still played, then returning them to storage neatly stowed beneath the half of the entertainment center we decided to keep. Still, only half the room is actually clean. The rest will come later. My office, on the other hand, is completely tidy. It’s a much smaller space than my house.
Rachel is the epitome of messiness. Her room is a jumble of paper and clothing and art supplies and books and blankets and stuffed animals and make up and knitting stuff. Our conflict over the state of her room is like the war on terror – it will never end because there will always be another attack of stuff. Her grandmother has attempted to bribe her with money and electronics. We told her that she couldn’t go to Paraguay unless she kept her room clean. That lasted until the non-refundable plane tickets were purchased.
What I miss more than anything is stepping into this minefield and picking my way to her bedside and to wake her up. Rachel sleeps wrapped in fuzzy blankets and she always has a sweet, warm sleep smell that reminds me of when she was a toddler and would come to my bed in the wee morning hours to snuggle until we’d need to get up. I miss my baby. I miss my teenager. Tomorrow is her 16th birthday.
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