There's an epidemic in my family - and yours, too, probably.
Everyone's going blind.
Everywhere I go there is evidence that no one can see.
They are blind to
that backpack by the front door
the shoes and socks strewn on the lawn next to the trampoline
the pile of unfolded washcloths and dishtowels in the laundry room
the burnt out light bulbs in the kitchen
the basket of odds and ends that need to go downstairs
the pile of DVDs next to the television
the empty refrigerator
and toys, toys, toys everywhere.
I am instantly notified if there is the slightest need in our household -
if we're out of toilet paper
if the basement needs vacuuming
if the pictures are crooked
if someone is crying
- it's a constant Twitter-feed of needs around here.
And I seem to be the only subscriber.
I've played games with the members of my family. It's called "Let's See Who Else Will Take Care of This." The answer is always "Nobody," and then I get mad. So basically, we both lose.
Because I suffer from blindness, too.
I'm not seeing when my husband takes out the trash - or empties the dishwasher - or gets the mail - or mows the lawn - or cleans the bathroom.
I'm not seeing when my mom cooks dinner - or organizes the papers - or watches the kids - or cleans up a spill - or helps with bath time.
I'm not seeing when my sister does the dishes - or takes the kids to the park - or feeds the NBC - or sweeps the floor.
I'm in need of some LOVE LASIK - stat.
Because the thing about this particular kind of blindness is -
you can choose what not to see.
And I need to choose to see love.