Ugh.
One of my number one rules is no toys in the kitchen.
But this week, like a lot of weeks, there were toys everywhere.
Even the dining room table had toys as it was a "store" this week.
I cleaned the kitchen Thursday morning while Owen destroyed the living room by pulling down all of the toy baskets from the shelves. At the same time, Annabeth took nearly every toy food item out in her kitchen. Once that was all picked up, she moved on to her room, and then later the school room. Meanwhile, Owen tore apart a book in his room.
Many days I hate the mess. I dread picking up toys or fighting the battle to get the kids to pick up toys.
Mark cannot stand the mess either. At the end of a stressful day the last thing he wants is to come home to a living room of My Little Pony craziness.
That being said...some days...many days...our mess is okay.
Many days I love our mess.
Tonight I write this, surrounded by Palace Pets, play food, and trucks that were not picked up because Mark is at work and the kids were so sweet and cuddly in their jammies that I needed to read to them more than I needed to pick up.
Tonight I sit next to the mess and I love it.
Our mess is okay because for so long I came home from work to a perfect house.
I always had floors that were vacuumed, swept, and mopped. I had furniture without dust. I had windows without fingerprints or noseprints. I had less than five loads of laundry a week. I only had one bed to change. And in all that time, I had many, many nights when Mark was at work and I sat in the middle of my perfectly clean house and cried. I wish and prayed for a child! I begged God for someone to make a mess in my house! I wanted to change diapers, wake up all night long, and to trip over toys! I wanted to wipe handprints off my fridge and to wash sheets all day long. I wanted tiny socks to fold and little hands to wash. I wanted more than a perfect house, I wanted a family home.
I always had floors that were vacuumed, swept, and mopped. I had furniture without dust. I had windows without fingerprints or noseprints. I had less than five loads of laundry a week. I only had one bed to change. And in all that time, I had many, many nights when Mark was at work and I sat in the middle of my perfectly clean house and cried. I wish and prayed for a child! I begged God for someone to make a mess in my house! I wanted to change diapers, wake up all night long, and to trip over toys! I wanted to wipe handprints off my fridge and to wash sheets all day long. I wanted tiny socks to fold and little hands to wash. I wanted more than a perfect house, I wanted a family home.
So tonight, sitting in my messy, lived-in home, I thank and praise the Lord for my sweet littles who made this mess. For our Miracle Girl and for Mr. O who make the best messes!
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