I was vacuuming the carpet the other day, getting ready for Mother’s Day. I’ll be having my mother and my mother-in-law over for a nice luncheon. I’m cooking even though I’m a mother too. It’s what I really enjoy doing and, quite frankly, I think it’s much easier to have people over to my house than to load the family and my own mother up in the car to see my mother-in-law. She doesn’t drive, so we either pick her up and bring her here or all of us go to her. Besides, it’s especially nice for me to cook for different palates besides my family. They usually like what I cook, but don’t appreciate some of the foods I like.

However, I digress. I am actually trying to write about the carpet I was vacuuming when I started this column. When we moved into this house 23 years ago, the people who owned it had only been here a year and a half.

They had done some light, cosmetic remodeling, including a cheap, gray Berber carpet. I never liked the carpet or its color. However, because it was new, we figured we’d wait until it was a bit worn out before we replaced it. Then we had kids.

We really weren’t willing put money into a new carpet with messes little babies and toddlers make; most specifically my youngest. No matter where I put her on a blanket, which was in the middle of the living room floor, she seemed able to flip herself to her stomach, drag herself to the edge of the blanket and puke just off the border. Since I put the blanket in approximately the same place every time I put her down to play, there was an odd square of dark stains like something out of a crime scene.

Between that phase and potty training, we waited. So when my youngest turned three and was well beyond potty training and throwing up, we took the plunge and got a new carpet.

I think it was called “spaghetti vernais.” I don’t know if that’s the exactly the term they used, but it’s what sticks in my mind. It’s basically just an updated version of the shag carpets that were so popular in the 70s, although it’s a pleasant brown rather than an avocado green.

However, I often think about how I chose wrong: to save on money, I got less strands per square inch, making the carpet less full. It’s fine, though, and doesn’t rule my every waking moment; but now that my daughter is 17 years old and some of my tastes have changed, I’d kind of like to get a new carpet. We only have a small living room and hallway that’s carpeted, so it probably wouldn’t even be that expensive. I’m not sure what style I’d get, I’d probably even get a similar color of brown

So I was vacuuming away, thinking about how I could probably justify a new carpet now that it’s been 14 years. I was dreaming about whether I’d step outside my comfort zone and get a patterned carpet, which seems a big commitment, like deciding on a tattoo; or maybe just another shag. I couldn’t visualize a really short carpet.

As I let the cat in the front door, I was imagining something really plush that would make people want to come in and roll around on the floor. She got a bite to eat, then as I turned the vacuum back on, she barfed right next to the coffee tabl

This is why we moms can’t have nice things. Happy Mother’s Day!

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can also read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh.” Her column is available every week atmaplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.