Monday, October 24, 2011

It Shows

On one of my previous post, I decorated it with pictures of my daughter's room. There was a famous doll sitting on the bed. I looked at the picture and was thankful that all the dirt and stains on her were not obvious in the photo.

Baby gets a bath (put in the washing machine) once a week. First I pre-treat her with a stain remover and sometimes I let her soak in my ever-present "soaking bucket" in the laundry room.

I feel the need here to pat myself on the back and tell you that I am pretty amazing at getting stains out of clothes. I really perfected my stain removing abilities after I became a mother. I used to be The Laundry Princess but in the last two years, I have had some upward movement in my company and have a new title now, The Laundry Queen. I wonder why with my new title I have not also received more pay? I guess that is a whole other post.

It is getting to the point with Baby that no matter how much I pre-treat her, soak her, or bathe her, she no longer becomes completely clean, free of the stains.

After I took those pictures, I thought back when to Baby first became a member of our family. She was so clean. There was not a speck of dirt on her and both bows on her dress were intact.



Now she has stains and one of the bows is missing.

I have tried in vain to make her like new again.

It never works.

She has been my daughters most adored companion. She has a lot of dirt on her.

She has been kissed, hugged, slipped under the covers with my daughter and kept her company while she dreams sweet, innocent dreams of a child.

She has been everywhere my daughter has been. Baby gets examined and receives her immunizations by the doctor before her forever friend.

It shows. It is evident that Baby has lived. That Baby has been loved.


So, the dirt and the wear and tear on Baby isn't really dirt at all. It is love made visible.



Love made visible . . .




". . . But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams






Stephanie

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