That one day, I will go to my medicine cabinet to grab my fingernail clippers, and I will be able to trim my natural salon-looking nails that received a light snag while decorating my home with Martha Stewart.
That one day, I will go use my stapler from my school supply cabinet, and I will be able to staple together the pages of the final draft to my children's book called, "Don't Touch Your Mother's Stuff."
That one day, I will reach for a tissue, and the box will be where I put it, and I will be able to hand one to a friend who is weeping with joy over my wonderful and successful children.
That one day, I will go to the tape drawer, find my scotch tape and be able to actually use it to wrap presents so elegantly the recipients will not want to open them.
That one day, I will go to the tape drawer, my clear packing tape will be there, and I will be able to use it to tape up boxes of hand knitted, crocheted and quilted items to mail to all my family living across America.
That one day, I will go to the tape drawer, and my blue painting tape will be there, and I will be able to tape the room neatly before I repaint all the walls and trim so deliciously, my house will be featured in a glossy woman's magazine.
That one day, I will go to use my car, and my keys will be hanging on the hook on the fridge and there will be gas in the tank. There will be NO candy wrappers, tennis shoes, water bottles, half-eaten sandwiches or slime-encrusted library books in the van. It will smell nice. I will run all my errands without fighting with myself and buy myself a treat for being so good.
That one day, I will sit at my sewing table, turn on the lamp, because it will be there, and so will the light bulb inside the lamp. The sewing machine will have the color of thread I need (the color I threaded it with the last time I used it), my pins will be on the pincushion, the sewing scissors will be on their hook and every notion will be cheerily lined up, awaiting my industrious use.
That one day, when I reach for the flashlight beside my bed, my fingers will caress the cold metal, flick the little button and bring light to my weary soul.
I have a dream that one day, I will live in this perfect world, where all my belongings are at my fingertips, just waiting to be lovingly used and to be put back into their designated habitats.
I have a dream.
But to waken from my current nightmare of reality Mommy life, to the dream world I have created in hazy hallucinations when I have five free seconds all in a row, probably means that all my scissor/tape stealing kids will have to grow up and move out.
That's more depressing than missing scissors.
I would love to work out a compromise.
I want my kids live with me, but put my stuff back after they use it.
That would be a dream come true.
But, until the nightmare becomes the dream I am dreaming, I will count each missing or misplaced item as a reminder that those little offenders running around my house,
call me Mommy.
That's the real dream come true.
He settles the barren woman in her home
as a happy mother of children.
Praise the LORD.
Now, can He just help me find my scissors?