What was I thinking? White sheets, sure.  But a white duvet? And not just any old throw, but a lush duvet, plump and appealing, with just a hint of embroidery as a mutely coloured accent. A couple of pretty euro shams and overstuffed pillows to match, and I crated an oasis.  A bliss in the midst of chaos.  A perfect place to snuggle up with a book and night full of dreams. And then I remember why moms don’t have white coverlets: Kids. Markers. Summer muddy feet. Sticky popsicle hands. Chocolate mouths. (And how did they find my stash anyway?  Better find a new spot…) And so began my futile struggle to keep my “oasis” pristine.  Phrases like “keep your filthy hands out of here” started rushing forth like water from a burst dam. But I knew it was pointless.  Because I missed the snuggles, and the bed picnic parties, and the forts they'd build, and I was thinking I’d actually like to have a coffee, or better yet red wine, in bed from time to time. So my oasis has been relegated to the b-team, to be brought out for guests and family who stay over. Sigh. Hope they appreciate it as much as I did…