Love From Maria

​ ​ S M L Last weekend my childhood stuffed animal, Mopsy, met his maker. I was given Mopsy by my father, before I was old enough to remember. He was with me through everything, listened to my prayers, caught my tears and comforted me until I was far too old to still have a stuffed animal. When our oldest son was around a year old he took to Mopsy and Mopsy took up his since retired position of comforting and cuddling. I was devastated to learn of Mopsy's untimely demise. It seemed so silly to be so sad about a stuffed animal being in pieces, but as the days have passed I have realized that lumpy little fluff of satin carried a lot with him. As you can imagine, Mopsy went everywhere with me and so by the time I was about eight my mom had to rebuild him, for the first time. She found new material to cover his thinning ears, feet and hands. She stitched his satin seems where they had become separated. And then again, and again, and again. And every time my son made a new h

Today I deep cleaned the main level of our house for what is VERY likely the first time since moving in. Riveting topic to post about, right? While I was scrubbing the floors (and at times using an exacto knife blade, thanks Erin) I found myself reflecting on this. I grew up in a house where we did chores and the floors were mopped every single weekend. I actually love doing chores! Mine as a child was dusting and it's still something that I find fulfilling, haha! So why then have I not deep cleaned like this in nearly four years? We moved in when Stetson was two months old, and I was deep in the thick of postpartum depression and anxiety. The easiest thing to let go, whether it was consciously or subconsciously, was my urge to clean the house. Very early into being a mother I let my need to clean go, it actually wasn't even something that registered with me.    ​ ​ S M L But I am not writing to tell you about how you should stop cleaning your house if you have a bab