I live in Chaos Land. I read book after book aloud, in a cheerful voice hoping to "happy" the bad bugs away. I clean bedding and jammies and stuffed animals and blankets. I pet heads, rub backs, make jokes and clown around, hoping for a wan smile from small sickies.
I worry and fret and wake and walk.
And then today I stop.
I stop because I’m tired tired, bone tired. I leave work early (they say I look pale), I wave the white flag at every obligation except the most essential. I rest and sit and sit some more.
Chaos, usually a distant cousin, moves in and takes a seat at the family table, as I allow my loved ones to become totally engulfed by goo, grime, and schmutz. As I whistle and look away, I turn a blind eye to the piles of toys, laundry, and candy wrappers populating the smooth surfaces in every room. I serve oatmeal for dinner, and let the kids watch Christmas movies and stay in their pajamas.
For today, I am done Florence Nightengaling… I decide instead to be the peaceful Queen of Chaos Land. I lump around, talk on the phone, eat sugar, and smile at every request, neither committing to anything, nor denying anything.
I am the happy Queen of Chaos Land. And I’m never going to clean again…