Priorities.

Where are they?

I had a recent conviction in this area.

I was putting Bree down for her nap. She fell asleep, and I put her in her crib. I walked out the door and didn't look back. I went downstairs, sat on my couch, and I started to cry.

Don't stop here or else you will think I am just insane.

I'm not.

As I sat down on the couch to relax with Giselle (naps are our snuggle time), I realized if something were to happen to Bree while she was sleeping, I had spent the entire morning cleaning and worrying about my stupid house.

Don't get me wrong: cleaning is important.

But I was putting a priority on the look of my house rather than my adorable little girl.

When I should have been on the floor playing peek-a-boo or building block towers for her to knock down, I was instead worrying about laundry, the dishes, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, and scrubbing my house into submission.

Right now, Bree is my job. It might not be valued by society to be a stay at home mom, but it's what we chose. I chose to stay home so I could teach her, cuddle her, play with her, and show her LOTS of new things each day. I didn't choose to stay home so I could have an immaculate house. I would still be working if those were my choices: job or clean house.

Job.

But Bree is what I chose, and I need to remember each day that I chose her. And I need to re-choose her every morning, every time my dishes stack up, every time my table is cluttered. Because my house is not eternal. My stuff is not eternal.

My daughter's soul ... now that's eternal.

So where is my priority?

Right where it should be: gazing into the beautiful blue eyes of my extremely happy and silly baby girl.