When your daily activities are in concert with your highest priorities, you have a credible claim to inner peace. – Hyrum Smith


I saw your socks...and I'm sorry.

Dear Mother or Parker's Preschool Buddy,

Thank you for having us all over to dinner a few months ago when you had a newborn. Thank you for coming over after we had to reschedule 3 times due to my kids' various illnesses. Thank you for taking off your shoes and your sons' shoes when you came in.

When you left, I saw your socks...and I'm sorry. I noticed them when you arrived. They were glowing white. Did you see me cringe? You didn't know I had to make some tough choices that morning. Wash the dishes, wipe down the counters and bathrooms, make the beds...or do the floors. I rationalized you wouldn't even notice the floors. (By the way, I noticed them at your house. How exactly was it possible for them to be clean enough to eat off of when your baby was less than 2 months old? I convinced myself you must have a cleaning person, but I cannot ask you directly for fear that you might not and are just a naturally immaculate person with an immaculate home.)

I saw the fleeting look of horror on your face when you nearly laid your baby on my living room rug before you quickly snatched him back up. Yes, I know we don't have animals. No, I don't know how my carpet gets so dirty. I hastily laid down a blanket for him, but it was too late. I tried to shrug it off and apologized for my filthy floors. I was dying inside. I saw you glance at your socks when you sat next to him on the carpet. I consoled myself with the thought that your cleaning person could benefit from the new rags.

Despite my embarrassment, I had a nice time. Our older boys had a great time playing together. I hope you'll come back. Just next time, please keep your shoes on.

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