Sometimes the messes give me fits, the sticky notes folded up on themselves and tossed on a counter, the dried out half-leaf that stuck to someone’s shoe and now resides in the corner of the mudroom, the cup no one will claim that may live forever on the stage in the basement.
When I walk up the narrow carpeted stairway, I stare at the seams that never quite get clean, the seams full of tiny paper bits, lint and, inexplicably, hair. Do my beautiful daughters brush their lovely long hair while sitting on the poky stairs? I shake my head at the possibility. And then remind myself that it might just be the case.
Because we’re comfortable around here. If the brushing has to happen on the stairs, then it will happen. If the “plug in your phone in my room by 10:00” rule happens to intersect with a night a kid is SO NOT TIRED, and she stays up laughing at funny quotes on Pinterest for another hour, in my room, while my eyes are stretching to stay open, I’ll be glad she’s there, in my room, on the floor next to the pile of her laundry which will probably stay there until it needs to be washed again.
The grass clippings that flutter in through the glass door and then blow through the kitchen show me that the kid mowed the lawn and then played soccer on it and then came inside to hug me before he ran back outside.
The messes are part of the life, and I really, really like the life.
(6) Comments for this blog
You are utterly charming.
You are utterly charming.
You captured my feelings exactly. It’s a blessing being comfortable in a family–messes and all.
By the way, your class was so much fun.
You captured my feelings exactly. It’s a blessing being comfortable in a family–messes and all.
By the way, your class was so much fun.
It takes practice to find comfort in the chaos. I’m still working on it. Glad I have good examples like you.
It takes practice to find comfort in the chaos. I’m still working on it. Glad I have good examples like you.