Clutter, Pick up, Clutter Repeat…

When I started having baby fever, I had this lovely picture in my head. Any mom reading this knows exactly what picture I’m talking about, the one on any tv ad, or any television show, or in any movie where the baby is chunky, cooing, smiling and relaxing perfectly in your arms, snuggled in a soft blanket sleeping peacefully. Then the image slowly transitions to the adorable pitter patter, giggling, and bright quick smiling. While this image is thankfully pretty accurate in terms of how adorable and perfect kids can be, it doesn’t even come close to covering what it actually means to have children. I mean, seriously having children is the most wonderful blessing, a real miracle, truly amazing. You know what else is amazing, the fact that kids have somehow come into this world preprogrammed to have a singularly unique ability to make the same mess every. single. damn. day. And parenting often means less chasing and playing and more begging and pleading with them to please not dump the box of crayons on the floor and then proceed to throw throughout the house for the twentieth time that morning to no avail. I mean seriously, its so frustrating. The worst part is the fact that no matter what you do or say, they will make mess’s and you have to just accept it. I mean I have to accept the fact that they do not possess the cognitive ability to recognize the fact that the mess they make is going to be a pain in the ass for me to clean up. It’s not that they don’t care (although I’m still debating this point) its that they don’t understand. Do you have any idea how much that makes me want to tear my own hair out (though I suppose that would be counter productive). It just sucks, because I hate the constant mess, but I can’t get made at them for it either because its not they’re fault. They are adorable, perfect little beings who I love with all my heart, so I can’t blame them for simultaneously being little hellions possessed by some sort of demonic mess creating, havoc wreaking creature. But man do I want to. Just this morning my little Erin was at her easel drawing so well. I was so happy. I was making her and her sisters lunch and she was actually entertaining herself, it was a miracle to say the least. Of course it couldn’t last, oh how I foolishly hoped it would last, it just couldn’t. Sure enough about 5 maybe 7 minutes in I hear something hitting the floor. I take a deep breath and turn around to see her watching me as she scoops up a handful of crayons. Eyes on me the whole time she chucks them, they scatter all over the floor that I had stayed up until 10pm cleaning up last night…I mean seriously, I cleaned up the same damn crayons less than 12 hours ago!! And not only that, but she is just doing it to piss me off. Ok I know she’s really doing it to see what my reaction is because she’s curious, but when it’s happening and she’s watching me like that I just feel like she’s trying to piss me off. It’s an ongoing joke in our household. Because many times the girls will come up, crawl in one of our laps and hug us only to then immediately start to pinch our cheeks. So we try to make light of it by using the sour head expression, first they are sweet, then they’re sour. Anyway, so this crayon thing is happening and it’s only two handfuls in so I’m thinking, ok she hasn’t thrown them all yet, maybe I can salvage this, maybe I can reason with her (man do I need a swift reality check in these moments). So I walk in and try to explain that mommy has to clean this up and it’s a lot of work so could she just draw some more or try another activity. She just stares and smiles. Then proceeds to throw another handful. Ok, seriously she is trying to piss me off. I switch tactics telling her that if they go on the ground then she can’t draw with them. I tell her I will have to take them away if she keeps throwing. Now this gets a reaction…it gets a fricken giggle. She giggles and smiles and throws another handful! So at this point I realize that I am dealing with an unreasonable little fiesty pants. Fortunately I have learned a few tricks throughout this grand adventure of parenting, one of them being knowing when to say fuck it. Yep, that is a true lesson any mom of multiples should learn, just say fuck it and deal with it later when your alone or not. So I just stopped talking, turned around and went back to making the lunches. Sure she covered the floor, and sure she might have won. But really I think we both won. Because she got to gleefully throw things and not get yelled at or lectured by her mom and I got to not be stressed and at least know that sure, she’s making a mess, but she’s happy. She’s smiling and laughing, and sure it might be a mess later, but some mess’s are just worth it. So yes, I’ll pick up the crayons again tonight, along with a bunch of other mess’s, and sure I’ll clean more of the same tomorrow, but I’ll do it while remembering how cute the sound of her laugh is and how sweet that gap toothed little smile is. I’ll do it knowing that one day (hopefully soon) they will pick up they’re own mess’s but for now it’s my job, and it’s really not such a bad job, it’s just one where you have to pick your battles.  At least they are sweet first 🙂

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