Messy at Best

Our home is messy at best.

There’s a peculiar smell, not bad, but I’m still unsure of what it is. I use was melts to help me out.

There’s a pan on the stove from making eggs this morning along with a bowl containing two pounds of thawing meat.

There’s a handful of dishes in the sink, the trash is nearly full, our table we use to prep food is covered in toys, random snacks, crumbs, and things I’ll be using for dinner tonight.

The dinner table has remnants of not just breakfast, but lunch, too. There are crumbs on the floor and Alvi’s high chair is a disaster.

I can’t tell you the last time I mopped, but I do vacuum - semi frequently.

The bathroom hasn’t had a deep clean in longer than I care to admit, but it does get frequent face lifts.

There are toys strung from one end of the house to the other, including those that belong to the dog. I constantly stub my toe and step on them, dropping the occasional not so good word, but normally my “go to” is son of a biscuit, gosh darn it.

There are random piles of folded laundry here and there that just haven’t been put away, dirty pajamas and some of yesterday’s clothes on the couch. I haven’t actually washed laundry in close to a week, but we all still have clean things to wear, so I’ll get to it soon.

Somewhere sits my cold, unfinished cup of coffee from this morning and maybe even one from yesterday, too. Who knows.

There is constant chaos. Constant.

The kids are good and content one second and fighting the next. No one stays happy for long, but it’s usually a fairly easy fix.

Our stroller wagon is sitting in the front room alongside the shoes that are a hot mess because they never get straightened up.

It’s either been raining or hot as Satan’s bum outside, so we don’t have many options. We’ve still not picked a new car, so we’re pretty limited on actually leaving home.

Do you know what these things say about our home?

That it’s lived in. That the people who live here are imperfect, a little untidy, we don’t have a housekeeper, but a mama who would rather spend time with her babies that keeping a perfect IG home. That these children are loved and taken care of, and that doesn’t have to include having the perfect home.

I do long for a clean house, no toys to step on, mopped floors, a better laundry routine, and as much as I don’t like it when people tell me this, I know that someday I will miss this.

I’ll miss the mess and the chaos, the laughter and even the fighting. I’ll long for the noise, to be smothered by my children, to feel like I have a purpose to fulfill each and everyday.

Right now I miss sleep most of all, I think. But, maybe someday, I’ll know what sleep is again. Until that day, I’m going to keep pushing forward. Reminding myself that each of these days is a blessing.

Some will be grumpier and more frustrating, and others will be filled with snuggles, calm, and love. It’s as simple and as messy as that.

I’m winging it, you’re winging it, we’re all winging it. Judgement isn’t needed, just love and Grace.

Regardless of the mess and chaos, my door is always open.

You need some coffee? Come on over.

You need a bed to take a nap in while someone else entertains the kids? You got it. (I promise, the bed is clean.)

You need to just sit with another adult, maybe even sans conversation, but just to feel seen and validated? I’ve got a chair for you.

I can’t promise it won’t be a rough day for myself, but if you can accept it for what it is, then that’s alright by me.

We all need a friend, and I’d be happy to lend my ears to someone in need.

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