My late-night-half-awake thoughts usually lead me to “what did I forget to do today?” It’s usually one of three things:
- I forgot to do some part of the laundry - switch it to the dryer, take it out of the dryer before it becomes embarrassingly wrinkled, or my favorite: start it altogether.
- I forgot to start the dishwasher, so we will play Tetris with our dishes and rinse off knives for another day.
- I forgot to clean up the floor downstairs so that my favorite family member (don’t tell my human family members), our robot vacuum, Dobby can clean at 4:00am, usually waking me up from a deep slumber. He’s so good but he’s so bad.
Who else misses the days when we could just say goodnight to the Orlando Bloom poster on our ceiling and roll over, falling asleep immediately? I often have moments of “when did I become an adult” and “why am I constantly cleaning up after myself and everyone else.” In reality I have been lucky because I haven’t had any major vomit explosions all over my car (although the laws of the universe now dictate that it will happen tomorrow). My child hasn’t gone through the trashcan while I have my back turned, although he did pick up dog poop while I had my back turned. So basically you should never turn your back on children. But somehow, my life is still full of messes. Hello, I’m a giant mess myself. Today I basically kicked my child into a door and gave him his first head knot. Before you call the authorities, it was all an accident and basically his fault because he was diving for the food I was putting back into the pantry. Almost knocking your child out is one sure way to make him forget about the food he was going after and guarentee him two extra cookies for dessert (#momguilt).
I watch Grey’s Anatomy religiously, but I still get queasy at some parts even though it is Hollywood after all. But somehow I am able to clean crap from my child’s tush, clothes, and anything else he leaked onto witout batting an eyelid. I open his diaper and can actually recall exactly what it was that he ate the night before; somehow that ability doesn’t bother me. It shouldn’t bother any moms reading this because we’ve all been there. If you’re reading this and feeling like it’s seriously TMI than you obviously don’t have kids and why are you even here?
I used to really care about clutter. I used to organize everything just so. Now I’m writing this from a bed that I haven’t made since the last time I changed the sheets. Have you played that game where you name 5 things within 5 feet of where you are sitting? For me, 3 of those things are toys (in my own bedroom, mind you) and the other 2 things are trash. This is life with a toddler. If he doesn’t miss those toys that have taken refuge in my room, they all allowed right of asylum until the tiny dictator feels otherwise because let’s be honest I don’t really rule any part of my house anymore.
Here’s the point that I was trying to make 500 words ago: motherhood is messy. For obvious reasons. But would any of us say that we would trade the messes for anything different than what we have now? I know I wouldn’t. I would add to the mess actually. I would add to it all. I would double the laundry and dishes. I would give up Dobby if I had to. No amount of Orlando Bloom posters and worry-free sleep would be worth what I have now. So next time your kids are making messes, join them. Because messes can always be cleaned. Floors can always be vacuumed. Laundry can always be rewashed or redried or ironed if you’re feeling really crazy. But your kids won’t be little, making messes forever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go clean up my tears after realizing that my child is going to grow up and move out of my house.