Messes = Memories

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Every night, after the kids are asleep, I walk around and survey the damage. It looks like a bomb went off in every room. 

There are naked barbies strewn all over the living room. 

Toy kitchen wares and various puzzle pieces on my toddler’s bedroom floor. 

Clothing – clean and dirty- thrown around like confetti in my tween’s room. 

It’s never ending and it’s easy to get frustrated. Moms make jokes about constantly cleaning, drowning in laundry, and picking up everyone’s shit all day every day. But it’s not a joke. It’s real life. Sometimes it’s so annoying that I feel myself stomping around throwing things in toy baskets while cursing through gritted teeth.

Then, I walk by and see this.

My two little ladies, playing together. Without any prompts from me. Without me begging my older one to keep an eye on my younger one so I can make a work call. The two of them enjoying each other, giggling and being sisters. And then I remember that so much of the stuff littering my house is because of moments like this. It’s collateral damage of them being kids and playing. And my heart swells and I feel a little guilty for being pissed (a little, not a lot because cleaning up after everyone is still annoying AF). 

Some messes are just messes, but some are the sign of memories being made and I’m going to try and remind myself of that every time I’m on my hands and knees cleaning glitter out of the grooves of my floors.

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