The Mess of Toys Have Legs

     

      Let me unravel for you a chilling tale.  Long after all my precious prodigy have fallen fast asleep, my husband and I fill laundry baskets with toys from our overflowing living room toy box.  In the late hours of the night (usually 9 pm) we use all the strength we can muster to haul the heaping baskets to the dank dark basement.  Slowly we descend each creaky basement stair trying not to let any toys escape our grasp.  As we step into the dark abyss we notice the mine field from toy hauls past.  Promptly we flip on the lights and step over all the obstacles that the unfinished basement has to offer.  Working our way to the play corner, we quickly dump out more toys than 3 little girls should ever have.  This terrifying section in the bowels of the house is filled with toys too big to keep upstairs and anything else we can sneak down.  My husband and I step over a litter of trinkets that our kids have lost interest in, and quickly run to the safety of our newly toy free living room. 

Relaxing into our comfy couch with a deep sigh, we turn on some late night Netflix to relax before ascending the stairs to the bedroom.  All of a sudden, I hear my husband let out a scream of terror.  Slowly out of the corner of my eye I see that his worst fears have come true.  The small living room toy box that was empty only moments earlier is once again overflowing.  All of our efforts have been in vain.  Try as we might the toys have made their way back up to the living room and once again the lid of the cramped box is unable to close.  I echo his scream of horror and bury my face into the strong arms of my handsome husband. Clearly the toys have legs and have clawed their way out of the basement prison we left them in only moments earlier. The toys are reproducing at a massive rate and soon there will be no room for human occupants in this house.  My husband and I find comfort in each other's embrace while we wait for our certain doom.  If you find this letter next to our mangled corpses please know that we died because of the toys.  Please know that our children are to blame and my husband and I fought the good fight til the end.      

     Twice a year I clean out my girls toy boxes.  I fill giant trash bags full of toys that are broken, super gross, or missing pieces. Every time that I do it I am shocked that I am still able to fill more trash bags with toys.  Why do my kids have so many toys?  Where are all these toys coming from?  Why do my kids love playing with all of these many many many toys? 

Unfortunately the answer is that too many people love my little ladies.  Grammie, Pa, Grandpa, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins all love my little devils to pieces.  This means that they love to give them ALL the things.  Every time they get a new stuffed animal and give that animal a hug with the biggest smile on their face, I know they will get more stuffed animals.  Every time they get dress up stuff and pose while asking if they look beautiful, I know they will get more dress up stuff.  Every time they scream with delight over getting something that they have been begging for, I know they will get more whatever they ask for.  If loving my kids means that you get joy when giving them more trinkets and baubles I will deal with the aftermath. 

I understand that seeing the joy from one of my little cuties is like a crack to the people who love them.  Someday when they are older we will not have as many toys because my kids will not find as much joy in them.  Until that day comes my sweet husband and I will continue to carry loads of toys to the basement and use trash bags to clean out toy boxes.  So if you love my kids you can buy them whatever makes you happy and I will try not to get murdered.  Except slime.  Slime is illegal in my house and I will put on a Jason Hockey Mask and stab any person who gives it to my children.  Happy Halloween!!     

My Brave Mess

    On October 13, 2020 a show called Red Table Talk on Facebook released an episode called "Mom Shaming: The New Epidemic."  The video was released about an hour after I experienced a particularly difficult occurrence of mom on mom violence.  I have always thought that mothers should do everything possible to build each other up.  We are all doing the best we can and we should try to recognize that in our fellow mommy warriors. 

     In late 2015 I had a very demanding newborn and a newly 3 year old.  Often I allowed my oldest Audery to pick her own outfit for preschool.  One day we showed up to drop off with Audery wearing an outfit of her own choosing.  It was a princess dress with long sleeves and long pants underneath (for weather reasons), five bracelets, one necklace, and tiara headband.  The small fight for long sleeves and long pants took almost all of my remaining energy for the day and it was 8:30 am.  

    Parents and kids would gather in the hallway outside the preschool room and wait for the teachers to open the doors.  One of the little girls in the hall was exquisitely dressed, her beautiful blonde hair was actually curled with a curling iron. I was super impressed. If I ever tried to curl Audery's hair both of us would end up burned.  That particular day I was just happy to be walking upright and at school on time.  The mom of  the well dressed little girl looked at me with sadness and pity in her eyes and said "I think it is so brave that you let Audery wear whatever she wants everyday.  I could never leave the house with my child looking like that."  I was completely taken aback.  My first reaction was hurt and then I was angry.  Why was she shaming me?  Didn't she understand that I was doing the best I could?  Didn't she see how happy and proud the princess dress and loads of accessories made Audery?  No she did not see any of those things.  Normally I would have reacted in a negative way, but I was taught to "kill them with kindness."  So instead of a throat punch I just smiled and said, "Thank you."  

     As soon as my girls started having opinions about what to wear I decided it was not an argument I wanted to have.  Fashion is a form of individual expression for them.  I didn't know it was "brave" to let my daughters pick out their own clothing.  In my mind I am building confidence and helping to encourage their own self expression.  Yelling at my children to wear certain clothes is not the hill I am going to die.  Battling with my children to be kind people, is a fight I will take on every day.  

    Audery has now become somewhat of a trendsetter at her elementary school.  Last year, in first grade, she started wearing a choker necklace that I used to wear in high school.  By the end of the year all of the girls in her class were wearing choker necklaces.  Now my super confident fashionista second grader decided that she was going to wear scrunchies on her ankle instead of her wrist. I know half of her class has already started copying her behavior.  Last week she started wearing leggings under her jean shorts.  It is only a matter of time before her friends are doing the same all winter.  All my girls need to have as many creative outlets as possible, including what they are wearing.  My style does not have to be their style.  My mother's style is not my style.  We all feel confident in different clothes.

     An amazing pediatrician named Dr. Chrissy Adams gave me the best advice when Audery was two weeks old, that I have tried to live by.  Dr. Adams said "If you are trying to parent for everybody else you will always fail your child."  Truer words have never been spoken to me.  If I try to make my children conform to what other people think I should be doing we will always be miserable.  Therefore, I will choose to be the best mommy to my strong willed girls.  Maybe someday my children will change society norms for the better and make this crazy world a more exceptional place.  Until that day I am going to encourage my three fabulous daughters to march to the beat of their own drum.  I am going to try to support them in all their endeavors and give my little ladies the confidence to change the things in the world that they think need to be changed.  Because I am their momma and I know they can literally do anything! 

Nature is a Beautiful Mess

 

     

     When my first baby was 18 months old she colored on the walls at the top of our stairs with a red crayon.  I marched her to the spot where the crime had occurred and sternly asked "Who wrote on this wall Audery?"  My sweet little chubby girl looked me straight in the eye and said "Daddy."  Shocked, I insisted "Daddy is not even home!  Who wrote on this wall?"  Holding her ground Audery blamed the graffiti on our husky dog, Copper.  After this confrontation I knew I was in trouble.  I had a strong willed daughter and we were hurtling towards the terrible twos at lightning speed.  Completely out of my depth, I lamented to my mom about the situation.  She recommended the book "How to Raise a Strong Willed Child" by Dr. James Dobson.  Quickly I ordered the 25th anniversary edition of the book and started reading.  The forward, which was written by Dr. Dobson, stated that if I was reading this book my mom read this book twenty five years ago.  Hilariously for me that was the truth.  

     Nature has a strong will all its own.  Trees try to get all the light, water, and nutrients for themselves so that they can grow up tall and strong.  The leaves all change colors at different times even if they are the same type of tree.  All plants grow to different sizes even if they were planted in the exact same place and at the exact same time.  There is nothing uniform, clean, or tidy about nature. There is always dirt and leaves covering the ground.  Nature is full of chaotic messy mess.  However, despite all the differences in color and appearance, it is still exquisite beyond our comprehension.  If everything in nature was the same it would not be as beautiful. Without the chaos of nature we would lose a lot of the elegance that comes out in the gorgeous landscapes.

I have been blessed (maybe cursed) with three very strong willed girls.  All of my little independent women have a lot of extreme feelings about different things. Most of the time this makes my life exceptionally more difficult.  My days are filled with putting out fires between my three stubborn little ladies.  I will try my best to mediate the destruction and the tantrums.  However, in the long run they need to learn to handle it themselves.  Every once in a while I will get a small glimpse of their natural beauty that comes from working together.  The messy destruction around them will be intense but the moments of cooperation will be marvelous.  I love these rainbow moments.  

    Most people have no problem looking past the clutter of a nature landscape to focus on the appealing outdoor picture with all its splendor.  My girls playing together is the same. The perceived messiness always makes the loveliness.  The toys on the ground and kids climbing all over everything, will create a beautiful chaos. Sometimes my strong minded girls will be yelling one second and then singing with each the next.  Every time my girls are working something out together it may seem like total mayhem.  There will be yelling, crying, hair pulling, and possibly hitting.  There will also be singing, dancing, hugging, kissing, and happiness.  Someday they will all realize that their strong wills are a super power that can be harnessed to change the world.  Until that day I will enjoy the mess and the natural rainbow moments that come with it.  

Messy Mother Sucker

My five year old was a difficult potty trainer.  Her main problem was pooping as a result of constipation from her high metabolism.  The only successful reward was suckers when she pooped on the potty.  I was standing in the candy isle at Walmart.  My newly 3 years old was safely tucked into the front seat of the cart.  Holding up two of the biggest bags of suckers that I could find, I said "Do you want these poop suckers or these poop suckers?"  After the words came out of my mouth I heard a lady in her late 60s start laughing hysterically walking down the isle behind us.  She touched me on the shoulder and said "That is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time!"  Totally startled I had to remember what I had just said because the term "Poop Sucker" had become such a normal vernacular in our home.

    I love suckers.  They are the cure for everything that troubles my children.  "Oh no!  You lost your favorite toy."  All better with a sucker.  "Oh no!  You had to get shots at the doctor."  Fix it with a sucker.  "Oh no!  Your fish died."  Sucker will make it better.  But seriously how do such small items seem to be the antidote for all of my children's imaginary and real ills.  The only downside is everything about a sucker.

    I hate suckers.  They create a disproportionate amount of mess for such a small sized candy pop.  Suckers will never stay inside of my kids' mouths. Inevitably their little hands will become covered in sticky sucker goo.  As I scream "NO!" their dirty fingers will reach out to slime me.  My kids hair, hands, face, feet, and any other exposed body parts will not be immune to the stickiness.  My sweet little gremlins will smear their gunk all over the car seats and the couch.  God forbid they have the loving urge to hug our sweet husky dog during the sucker eating time. When the reign of the sucker is finally finished everything I own is now covered with sticky mess.  

    In the aftermath of all this sucker turmoil there is a considerable amount of clean up.  A billion wet wipes will be used to rectify the devastation.  In the odd case that I am out of wet wipes, I will grab a massive amount of napkins or paper towels and get them soaking wet.  Then I will proceed to basically give my little darlings a head to toe wet wipe bath.   In hindsight it probably would have been easier to dunk the children into an actual bathtub or spray them off with the outside hose.  The determination is that it always takes longer to clean up than it takes to literally eat the sucker.  Why would I still give suckers to my children?  Why would a sane person purposefully cause this extreme messy situation and make more work for themselves?  For the love of motherhood why would anyone allow everything to get so sticky?  

    The answer is simple...joy.  The amount of joy that all of my kids get from a sucker is totally worth every car seat scrubbing; every couch washing; every extra load of laundry; every time I have to change out of a sticky shirt from a unexpected sucker hug; and every leftover sucker stick found stuck to the carpet.  Behind all those messy sticky moments with suckers is a vast amount of joy for my girls.  The joy that causes them to giggle with delight; or say the sweetest "thank you!" without prompting; or stop all those sad heavy feelings that seem too big for their sweet little bodies; or dry up all those huge tears that were falling from their eyes only a few seconds earlier.  The joy is so much better than all that sticky slimy sucker mess.

 

Messy Pictures

     Welcome to my messy mom story.​  In order to highlight how my life has changed here are two of the most contrasting pictures I could find.  A picture from my wedding and a picture from this morning.

      The first picture was almost 9 years ago.  It took half the day to get ready.  My makeup was professionally done.   My hair was professionally done.   I was wearing a super expensive wedding dress and the most amazing shoes I have ever worn.  Deliriously happy because I was marrying the love of my life and my best friend.  Everything was clean, everything was tidy, and everything was totally put together.  Someone was paid a lot of money to take professional photos to make sure that this amount of effort was documented.  I looked smokin hot.  Everything was perfect.

     The second picture is from 8am this morning.  Everyone had finally been fed breakfast and my 2nd grader was on the bus to school. I am wearing the shirt I slept in with no bra, fuzzy slipper, and a too big cardigan. No time to put any makeup on my face and with my hair quickly pulled up on top of my head, I happily posed for my demanding 5 year old paparazzi with my phone. There are no filters, no cropping, and all the mess is REAL.  I would venture to say that I am equally happy in both pictures.  I am still married to the love of my life and my best friend.  Plus I now have three amazingly beautiful girls.  I still look smokin hot.  Everything is still perfect.

     Both of these pictures show beauty.  Convention dictates that the wedding picture is the beautiful one.  A lot of times the “messy” one seems filled with more love and beauty than the wedding picture to me.   The diapers on the floor are for my last tiny baby butt that needs to be cleaned.  The maraca on the floor is because my 5 year old and my 18 month old decided to have a parade band.  Next year that 5 year old will be in Kindergarten and the band will only have one member.  All of the many toddler toys make my chubby baby girl scream with delight while singing and dancing to silly songs.  Some people might just see messy toys all over the floor but I know the beauty that created this mess. 

     When did it become more important for a house to appear perfect rather than celebrate the giggles in creating the mess?  Why does having toys on the floor mean a house is gross rather than kids that live there are enjoying their childhood?   

     Don’t misunderstand I love a clean house.  Sometimes my amazing husband takes my 3 crazy girls to the park for half a day and I clean like a lunatic.  For a few glorious hours my house looks perfect.  Then my kids walk back into the house and 30 seconds later toys are everywhere, drinks are spilled, and crackers are stepped on.  Instead of getting upset that all that work is for nought I have started to prioritize my children enjoying being children over appearances.   

     Having a messy house is never a bad thing; it should be celebrated.  If you have a messy house it means it is loved by your whole family who lives there.  The more MESS means the more LOVE!  Learn to love the mess, see the beauty behind the chaos, and enjoy the ride.