08/11/2023
This is not my season for clean houses. For organized shelves or fashionable furniture.
This is not my season for fancy restaurants. Or recipes with more than five ingredients. Dinner parties or evenings out past 8 p.m.
Because this is my season for child rearing. It's bo**er (and butt) wiping, it's chasing kids around the yard, it's dirty feet and pure hearts. It's so many messes; collateral damage for our family living our best lives.
It's soothing tears and calming fears. It's hugs and bobo kisses. It's nighttime books and bed sharing. It's big dreams and big hearts in tiny bodies that seem to grow by the day.
Our favorite memories are the messy ones. Our best days are worn like badges of honor with crowded floors and empty toy bins.
This is not my season for clean houses. Not even close. But someday, when that season returns (and it will), I will realize the house is clean because little kids no longer live here. And I look back wistfully on what once was.
I will miss the scattered legos, the sticky tables and the throw pillows on the floor. Because it was never about the messy house. It was about my season being a mom of littles.
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(Art by Spirit Y Soul)
