Bleach and D-Day

From 7 a.m. until 4 p.m. today I soaked myself in bleach. Mostly my hands. I washed all the walls in my house, scrubbed the ceilings, dustboards, doorknobs. I took out the dishes, utensils, and randoms from my kitchen cupboards and scrubbed the cubbies inside and out. (Actually, I tackled the bathroom first. Making a toilet shine can give me enough energy to do pretty much anything.) I cleaned out the fridge and freezer. Reorganized our bulletin board, CDs, and spices. I started scrubbing our baby stuff, but Wesley came home from hours and hours of tests and reviews...so we went on a walk and attempted quarts of freezer strawberry jam (but we didn't have enough pectin, so throw in a trip to Macey's and try not to picture my unwashed face, flat hair, and greasy, sweats-wearing self. Amazing that Wes can still call me, sincerely, "cute" at times like this).

I didn't mean to do so much. But I wasn't tired; I saw the next patch of unwashed wall and thought, I can do a bit more. I can climb on chairs and attack the tops of our doors. So I did, and finally my feet, back, and Charles started noticing. I may be waddling tomorrow! My obsessiveness can sometimes be controlled, but when I've been holding back on deep cleaning for this long I can go crazy. This morning I made a list of a few cleaning things I want to do before spring term starts up again; I don't know if I'll be able to sleep I'm so excited about reorganizing our furniture and setting up house for our baby and digging out of our mess. We haven't lived in our house; this semester, we lived on campus. Not so for the next four months, though!

Last night we went to Bountiful to meet up with my sister, her husband, Shifty, and my parents. Funny how you miss people more when you allow yourself to dwell with them a bit. Even people who are gone from earth permanently: if I let myself start thinking about people I've lost I start missing them more, as if by invoking their presence I've enunciated my loss. My parents may have a more difficult year with my little sister (their last) off to college than she will.

I did laugh so hard last night Wes wondered if I might push myself into labor. What a wonderful way to enter the world--on the arc of your family's laughter. Maybe if we practice breathing/relaxation enough, Charles will be so blessed.

I started this with the intention of reflecting on D-Day. I listened to Stephen Ambrose's book as I cleaned. I'm ashamed at how much I don't know, how much I take my freedom for granted, how many people I don't appreciate. Even how ignorant I am of terminology! I'm amazed at the detailed plans, the individual lives interweaving to form this thing we call "history." How will present events be remembered? (Will Iraq be thought of by Here, Bullet or a historian's collected view?) What will Charles know of our lives--will his wars be a continuation of ours or will he be baffled by our violence? (I prefer the latter--even as I doubt its possibility.)

There are stains no bleach can purify: this may be to our benefit.