I have a confession to make. I love making beds. Really. There is just something about freshly made beds that makes me happy. It goes way back to when I was a young, newly married elementary school teacher. Every morning on my way to school, I drove past the house of a woman I knew. Sometimes in the darkness of the early morning, I saw lights on upstairs. I knew she was busy in there, getting her young children ready for school, packing backpacks, and making beds.
As much as I enjoyed teaching, I wanted that to be me. I wanted to be the mom at home, pouring cereal, brushing hair, and making beds. Thankfully, that is exactly what I am blessed to do everyday. Steve and I have a good system going. He takes the kids to school, and I pick them up. Flynn loves to ride along with Steve in the morning, so as soon as they leave, I head upstairs to make beds. I open the blinds to let the sunlight in. I smooth comforters and plump pillows. And I think about how blessed I am.