Musings on Motherhood, Writing and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

Decorator I am not. I guess that's why ABC's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition fascinates me. I click off the TV and look around my own humble abode. It may not scream, "Demolition Day," but it sure could use some professional help. My personal style these days is contemporary early childhood. I use hip accent pieces such as stuffed animals, stacks of coloring books, and a laundry basket filled with building blocks. Trend-setting elephant and hippo tents dominate what used to be the formal living room. I can't bear to part with a comfy blue and white striped couch that's old enough to drive. Our family history is recorded in its stains, from red wine to spit up to chocolate ice cream.

Nope, decorating is not a top priority. I live with two little boys, ages 2 and 4, who climb, wrestle, and tend to wander with snacks and sippy cups. Besides, I was born without the Pottery Barn gene. I never even invested in proper nursery furniture. The crib is on-loan, going on five years now, and the dresser was left behind by the previous owners of our house. But one piece of furniture defies embarrassment. Early in my first pregnancy, I was determined to find the perfect rocker.

I love rocking chairs. In my dreams of motherhood, I would always picture myself rocking babies to sleep. After a lengthy search, I found it: a blue, upholstered gliding rocker on an oak frame, as comfy as any man's recliner. The chair served me well through colic, midnight nursing sessions, and bedtime stories. Now that my boys are no longer babies, I moved the rocker out of the nursery and into our family room. To my delight, it matches the couch.

Now, it is my writing chair. A steaming cup of coffee sits by my side each morning at six a.m. The house is quiet. I nestle in with a blanket on my lap, gliding rhythmically in the chair as my pen glides across the pages of my journal. Some ideas flow effortlessly, allowing me to mold them into coherent phrases and paragraphs. Such sweet, obedient words! Others burst forth unexpectedly, determined to do their own thing. Sometimes they just won't stop crying. Maybe you know the type-strong-willed, defiant, exciting.

Like my children, my words are nurtured with a gentle rock, patient guidance, and a lot of love. I miss the contentment of holding my babies in the pre-dawn stillness, so I hold a pen instead. Undecorated as this house is, I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be. While I wait for the moment my energetic boys bounce out of bed and start our day running, I rock-a-bye my growing poems, stories, and memories.

Many years from now, there will probably be an old, raggedy, stained excuse for a chair sitting in my house. If I ever make it on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, I'll tell Ty to save it for me. Decorator I am not. What I am is Mom and Writer.