Someday

Someday all my windows will be clean and see-through. If anyone leaves a fingerprint, it won't be covered in jam, and I definitely won't have to Windex spit off the doors hourly.

Someday there won't be anybody around to sneak a fistful of Shredded Wheats into the car immediately after I vacuum it. Nobody will ever get frustrated or cry or scream. I'll always listen to NPR in the car, turned down to a nice, quiet level. My sunglasses will always be right there in the holder where they belong and I'll be able to leave pens in plain sight without fear of an art attack.

Someday I won't come home to find that the kids have hauled a 500 pound box of Halloween costumes up from the basement and tried on every one of them. Someday my makeup will be used on my face instead of everyone else's and my lipstick certainly will not be used to decorate the couch or the ceiling of the car.

Someday the lawn won't be completely littered with popsicle sticks at the end of the day. I'll stop finding the freezer door wide open. My shoes will never stick to the floor and if I mop, you won't find orange puddles everywhere ten minutes later.

Someday there won't be glue stuck to the counter and we'll have a table that isn't permanently covered with paint spills. I'll have a nice tablecloth that hardly ever gets dirty. Two shelves of our pantry won't be devoted to dried-up Play-Doh, random beads and stacks of paper, each one with a single crayon mark on it.

Someday nobody will steal my camera and use it to take 48 pictures of her bun on the first day of ballet. I won't have to drive down that dang alley someday, and I'll never again have to listen in helpless pain while a little dancer sobs inconsolably all the way home because she can't see that she's beautiful.

Someday all the water I put in the tub won't end up on the floor, and nobody will overflow the bathtub and still come out of it with a dirty face. I won't carry wipes and I'll never be sticky, never have chocolate cake batter on the front of my shirt.

Someday, our silverware drawer will always be full because nobody will take all the spoons to the backyard to dig dirt for their "galaxy far far away." And the white dishtowels won't be buried under the dirt in that galaxy.

Someday nobody will need me to get them a Band-Aid or cool their fevers or hold them when they fall. If I lock the bathroom door or pick up the phone, nobody will come running. My lap won't be prime real estate, and my shoulder will be dry and drool-free.
Someday we won't have to read bedtime stories or listen to problems that have arisen during the day. We won't have to do all that tucking in and prayers and "I love you" stuff.

I'm thankful that "someday" is a long way off.