Miss the Mess

I have got to stop reading the blogs of these women who have half a dozen kids which they homeschool, who cook like gourmet chefs, take edit and upload photos on their blogs and capture within those photos serenity. Orderly house, nothing out of place, nothing out of style. I have come to the conclusion that the only way these women do everything they claim is either a.) they have a housekeeper or b.) they lie.

I keep telling myself, it's just a snapshot that is staged. I'll bet if I opened one closet door in those houses I'd be buried alive under the avalanche of all the junk that was stuffed in there while the picture was being taken. Right? Right.

If someone came to my house and took a snap shot neither serenity nor style would be captured. You'd look at the picture and feel tired thinking, whoa! That place is a mess! The saying goes, Don't miss the forest for the trees, but in my house it's, don't miss the kids for the mess.

I'd be less crazy if it were contained to a single room. But no, the mess stretches from one side of the house to the other. Not even my room is a safe place. Right at this moment there is a pot lid from our toy kitchen on the floor right beside my bed.

I've come to terms with the mess. I don't fight it anymore. It would take more than an army of one, thats for sure. The biggest reason I no longer fight the mess (unless someone is coming over, in that case whatever you do, DON'T open a closet door) is because I was starting to miss the forest for the trees.

A tiny girl and a precious boy are right under my nose and somedays I barely see them. Because I'm looking at the mess. I can't go for a walk because I need to vacuum. I can't play outside because there is a pot lid on the floor in my room. Really?

Take a snapshot tomorrow and guess what you will see? My arms around my two precious children, reading books, playing outside, swinging, going for a walk, being together and being content. The mess just isn't so bad when I'm on the floor in the middle of it.

One day, the mess will be gone. I'm pretty sure, when that day comes, I'm really going to miss the mess.