I’m sitting on my floor. I was supposed to be tossing trains back into the wicker toy box we attempt to hide in the corner of the living room, but instead, I’m sitting on my floor.
The kids are asleep, the husband is working late, and here I am, sitting between Sheriff Woody and Lightning McQueen.
I’m looking at my used-to-be-new skinny jeans with the worn-out knees and my sad little toes that desperately could use a some fresh paint. There’s a sippy cup with fermenting apple juice sitting on my bookshelf and the chevron rug I was so excited about getting is littered with puzzle pieces and a half-ripped book about tractors. My fat dog is snoring as she flattens the couch cushions and the lone survivor of our pre-children end tables is collecting dust.
And I’m realizing that the mess is okay. Actually, it’s more than okay.
Maybe you need to hear this, too: Dust bunnies are beautiful.
There’s beauty in the mess of a home well-loved. There’s something magical about reading the last bit of Green Eggs and Ham, kissing the forehead of a sleeping toddler, and coming into my living room that looks like two little tornadoes zoomed through.
These precious little boys that call me Mommy have messed up my life in all the right ways. I don’t get to keep them in the nest for long, so I’m not going to worry if my gallery wall is crooked because my four-year-old was attempting his version of Plinko.
I’m trading that endless pursuit of perfection for the joy in the every day. (Want to know something? That perfect living room you saw on Pinterest from that blogger you love? Go un-pin it right now. It doesn’t exist. And, if it makes you feel discouraged instead of inspired, go delete all your pins right now. Hide yo kids. Hide yo wives.)
Ladies, we are on the same team here. We are in the mothering trenches and the last thing we need is to fall into the trap of feeling burnt-out or stressed because there are a few Happy Meal (yeah, I said it) toys on the floor and a mystery substance is sticking to the wall. (Okay, maybe go clean that one up. I’ll wait.)
But for real. Mamas, would you let yourselves exhale and just dwell in this thrilling and boring, gratifying and frustrating mess that is motherhood?
Would you come sit on the floor with me and stay awhile? There might be some crumbs, but I think you’ll like it here. There’s courage to be found among the clutter and joy waiting in the junk. I do hope you’ll join me.
Just don’t step on a Lego in the dark.
Those things hurt.