7 am. Chris’s alarm went off and he pressed the first snooze, or rather he swiped his phone so it would snooze and we could lay in bed longer. I texted my mother and telling her that I didn’t have a sub job today and I hadn’t gotten any school calls yet. Fun! She told me to have a fun day playing house! And oh, I will, Mama. I love to be home.
I love playing house. My first thoughts took me to a memory of my four year old self, playing house at the playroom at our home in Anchor Point, AK. This playroom eventually became my bedroom when I got older. Lucky me! My dad built a loft in it, and there was a little window/ledge area in the loft, that I recall pretending to serve food from. Or maybe that’s where my parents would bring me food while I was playing. I’m picturing a plate of sliced apples.
My siblings are 4, 5, and 7 years older than me, so I played by myself quite a bit, but I played by myself quite well too, even when I was a wee little babe. That’s what Mom tells me.
I picture myself dressed up, maybe carrying some dolls around, most likely Suzy and Lulu, playing house in the playroom. I loved playing house. “Do you want to play house?”
I love to be home, going through stuff, cleaning up, making things better and more cozy, while listening to music, books, or talks, or with a movie on, and possibly while making some food. I love being home and helping to create a home of love, peace, and harmony.
When I was a preteen and teenager, I’d spend hours “cleaning my room.” I’d go through all my drawers and all my stuff, find homes for things, dream of things to create… Dad never understood why I’d “clean” or organize for so long without many visible results. But I guess it was my way of playing house. It was my space and that’s where I’d color on the walls before they were painted, I’d rearrange my sponge bob and Disney princess posters, slather glow in the dark stars/animals/feet all over my walls and ceiling, I’d plug in my colorful little disco ball, and I’d display my fun mini things.
Things haven’t changed too much. Instead of wearing dress up clothes to play house like I used to, I now wear a pair of favorite leggings and a favorite t shirt that belonged to husband. Instead of carrying around dolls, I carry around cats haha, since we don’t have babies yet. And instead of rearranging my posters, I’m rearranging fotos on the wall, snapshots of great moments of our lives. I still like my glow in the dark stars, but I no longer have glow in the dark feet and animals on the wall.
Sometimes I get frustrated with house work, like when the cats aren’t doing well with toilet training and they go to the bathroom on the floor, which happened twice yesterday and twice the day before. Or when we have to vacuum all the time because our dog and cats leave hair around. Or when the dishes have crunchy food on them. Or when the food storage sits on the counter for two weeks. Or when our “guest room” (that I’ve renamed the “creation room” so they it be a place of creating), becomes the “junk room” and fills with all our (mostly my) random stuff.
So yes, sometimes house work can be a drag, but playing house is something I love. Always have, always will.
