Dishes
25th February 2008
Day 25: 29 Days of the Everyday
As a parent, I have begrudgingly accepted routine. As a parent, you really have no choice in the matter, if you want some semblance of a happy child and home.
And while I am not one to want to be away from home (and the routine) for very long — even pre-Lucy, a week’s vacation was borderline more than enough — I get bored easily. It’s a rather frustrating existence, really. Being married to a man that thrives on routine, who gets a indigestion when he’s away from home for more than two days, who lives for the comfortableness in the same, can be challenging. Throw in a child, and well, jeez.
So I break things up with small indulgences: The colour and length of my hair. New shampoos and body and hand wash and dish soap. Seeking out new friends. Visiting new stores. Purposely NOT cleaning the house exactly every week or 10 days or *gasp* three weeks. Trying new foods and restaurants.
But some parts of the routine we cannot escape, can we? Dishes are ingrained in our family’s routine. Every night after dinner, after Lucy is in bed, they beckon. They line the countertops: Plastic sippy cups, the booster seat chair, favourite spoons that can’t be missed for as often as the dishwasher is run, pots and pans and cooking utensils from tonight’s dinner, Tupperware that must be hand washed.
Because they are here, I’ve come to rely on them as part of the process to unwind from the day. I enjoy the act of filling the sink with hot soapy water and scrubbing each piece with the yellow and green sponge. There is something…fresh about dishes, something clean as they drop into the drying rack sudsy and warm.
No matter what the day has brought or tomorrow will bring, they are a constant. And I like that.
(Don’t tell Eric.)
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