Peals of laughter sounded from the office where I knew my husband and our baby were playing. He agreed to keep an eye on her for a little while so I could get a few things done in the rest of the house. 30 minutes I challenged myself. I have 30 minutes to get this room where I want it.
His deep voice and her baby giggles made my heart laugh as I zoomed around the room. More than anything I wanted to go watch them play together, but I'd been playing with my baby most of the day. 30 minutes of focusing on something else would be good for both of us.
Socks always travel in pairs, so it would stand to reason that each load of laundry should always contain two socks of each kind. Yet more often than not we find an odd sock--the one that went missing. A baby is to household chores what a washing machine is to socks. At the end of the day I look at my to-do list and can't give a good reason this chore or that chore didn't get done. Somehow in making sure the baby survived another day, the time for doing the chore evaporated--just like that oddball sock.
Evenings like these were my way of going through the mismatched sock drawer--both literally and figuratively. I have the chance to catch up on all those chores that evaporated. I only had a half hour, so I had to make it count. With some peppy music on my side and a smile on my face, I could make that thirty minutes of focus worth two hours at any another time.
As the timer went off I stood back to admire my work. I'd done well. I smiled at another loud giggle from the back room. It was time for mama to join the fun.
Written in January as part of my husband's 30 Days of Writing Prompts. He will be publishing the book next month, so stay tuned for more!